^RV  OF  PR!«Cf^ 


•^fOLOGICALSE^ 

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^    -^,  ^J. 


^rTT    /rri'. 


X 


.:.il 


LIFE  AND   LETTERS 


OF 


DAVID     COIT    SCUDDER, 


MISSIONARY  IN   SOUTHERN   INDIA. 


By  HORACE  E.   SCUDDER. 


NEW  YORK: 
PUBLISHED  BY  HURD  AND   HOUGHTON. 

BOSTON:   E.  P.   BUTTON  AND  COMPANY. 
MDCCCLXIV. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1864,  by 

Horace  E.  Scudder, 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


BrVERSinE,    CAMBRIDGE: 

STEREOTYPED    AND    PRINTED    BY 

H.   0.   HOUGHTON   AND   COMPANY. 


PREFACE. 


I  HAVE  tried  in  this  volume  to  record  the  life  of  an 
elder  brother,  who  was  a  missionary  in  India  of  the 
American  Board  of  Commissioners  for  Foreign  Mis- 
sions, and  died  at  the  beginning  of  his  twenty-eighth 
year.  My  thanks  are  due  to  the  various  persons  who 
have  assisted  me  in  this  work  by  allowing  me  to  exam- 
ine and  use  the  letters  which  they  had  received  from 
my  brother,  and  by  furnishing  me  with  recollections 
of  their  intercourse  with  him.  Especially  I  would 
acknowledge  the  service  rendered  by  Mr.  Capron  and 
Mr.  Washburn,  members  of  the  Madura  Mission. 

It  should  be  stated  that  the  chapter  on  Cromlechs 
was  compiled  from  material  which  had  also  been  used 
in  the  preparation  of  a  paper  upon  the  subject,  read 
before  the  Boston  Society  of  Natural  History  by  my 
brother,  S.  H.  Scudder.  and  inserted  in  the  published 
Proceedings  of  the  Society. 

The  portrait  which  precedes  the  volume  is  engraved 
from  a  photograph  by  Black,  enlarged  from  an  ambro- 
type  taken  in  India,  a  few  weeks  before  my  brother's 
death.  It  was  judged  to  be  the  most  satisfactory  pict- 
ure that  could  be  secured  of  him  as  he  appeared  in 


iv  .       PREFACE. 

India,  and  I  only  regret  that  it  was  not  practicable  to 
insert  also  one  which  should  recal  the  face  most  famil- 
iarly to  those  who  remember  him  as  he  was  at  the  time 
of  leaving  America. 

If  it  had  been  possible  I  would  gladly  have  used 
throughout  the  book  the  method  adopted  in  the  latter 
half,  of  giving  the  narrative  in  the  missionary's  own 
words,  but  a  slioht  examination  will  show  the  reader 
how  necessary  it  was  that  the  account  of  the  greater 
part  of  his  life  should  be  given  by  another :  the  record 
did  not  exist  in  his  own  language,  except  as  it  related 
to  the  merely  incidental  side  of  his  life.  There  can  be 
but  little  interest  and  less  importance  attaching  to  any 
mere  narrative  of  adventure,  where  the  life  of  a  stu- 
dent is  concerned,  and  I  have  followed  my  own  kind 
of  interest,  in  trying  to  disclose  the  mental  growth  and 
change  in  my  brother,  by  the  various  means  which  his 
life  afforded.  It  is  not  so  much  to  tell  what  he  did,  as 
to  show  what  he  was,  which  I  have  kept  before  me  as 
my  aim  in  the  biography. 

In  narrating  his  missionary  experience,  however,  I 
have  been  fortunate  in  being  able  to  give  it  entirely  in 
his  own  words,  and  I  hope  that  the  acquaintance  with 
him  formed  from  the  first  part  of  the  Life  may  help 
the  reader  to  understand  and  appreciate  more  fully  the 
character  which  lies  behind  the  journals  and  letters. 
The  account  of  missionary  labor,  although  based  on 
a  short  eighteen  months'  experience,  will  perhaps  be 
found  to  have  a  special  value  through  this  very  limit- 


PREFACE.  V 

ation,  since  it  is  freed  from  a  confusing  repetition  of 
similar  scenes,  while  the  time  is  long  enough  to  allow 
an  exhibition  of  the  various  sides  of  missionary  life. 
The  freshness  of  the  impressions  which  the  traveller 
recorded  was  saved  from  the  danger  of  error  and  super- 
ficialitj  by  the  previous  theoretic  knowledge  which  his 
study  had  given  him,  and  by  the  companionship  of 
older  residents. 

I  have  not  thought  to  raise  a  broken  shaft  over  my 
brother's  grave,  for  I  cannot  think  of  him  as  one  hav- 
ing an  untimely  end,  but  as  one  who  was  permitted  to 
show  a  rarely  completed  life  within  the  compass  of  a 
few  years.  It  was  the  rapid,  but  healthy  development 
of  his  nature  wliich  induced  me,  with  perhaps  too  par- 
tial an  interest,  to  be  more  particular  in  my  narrative 
than  the  reputation  of  the  subject  would  naturally  war- 
rant. But  after  all,  now  that  the  record  is  finished,  I 
am  oppressed  with  the  thought  how  inadequate  must 
be  any  biography  to  reflect  the  life  of  a  man.  To 
those  who  knew  my  brother,  this  book  will  doubtless 
bring  back  his  image  in  many  lights  ;  for  those  who 
knew  him  not,  I  can  only  hope  that  it  will  make  them 
wish  that  they  had  known  him. 

Boston,  Julij,  1864. 


CONTENTS. 

— •—— 

CHAP.  PAGE 

I.   Childhood  and  Youth 1 

II.   College-Life  —  Freshman  Year 21 

m.   College-Life  —  Last  Three  Years •••     49 

IV.  A  Year  in   Theological  Seminary  at  An- 

dover 72 

V.  A  Year  of  Experiment 87 

VI.   Completion  of  Theological  Study 107 

VII.   Oriental  Studies 123 

Vin.  Enterprises  —  Last  Months  in  America- ••  137 

IX.  The  Voyage  and  the  Landing 164 

X.   Stay  in  Madras 179 

XI.  Journey  from  Madras  to  Madura 200 

XIL  Residence  in  Madura 223 

Xni.   Home  at  Periakulam 278 

XIV.   On  the  Pulney  Hills 303 

XV.  Return  to  the  Plains  —  Touring 330 

XVI.   Search  among  Cromlechs 356 

XVII.  Last  Labors — Death  and  Burial 367 

XVIII.   Conclusion 386 

Index 397 


It  is  not  growing  like  a  tree 

In  bulk,  doth  make  man  better  be ; 
Or  standing  long  an  oak,  three  hundred  year, 
To  fall  a  log  at  last,  dry,  bald,  and  sear : 
A  lily  of  a  day 
Is  fairer  far,  in  INIay, 

Although  it  fall  and  die  that  night ; 

It  was  the  plant  and  flower  of  light. 
In  small  proportions  we  just  beauties  see; 
And  in  short  measures  life  may  perfect  be. 

From  a  Pindaric  Ode  on  the  Death  of  Sir  H.  Morison. 

Bem  Joxson. 


LIFE    AND    LETTERS 

OF 

DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER. 


CHAPTER   L 

CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH. 

[1835-1851.] 

David  Coit,  seventh  child  of  Charles,  and  eldest 
of  the  children  of  Charles  and  Sarah  Lathrop  [Coit] 
Scudder,  was  born  on  the  27th  of  October,  1835,  in 
Boston,  Mass.,  U.  S.  A.  The  family  was  of  Puritan 
origin,  tracing  its  lineage  on  one  side  to  Governor  Win- 
throp,  on  the  other,  to  a  Scudder  of  the  earliest  days  of 
Massachusetts  Bay.  Two  brothers  of  the  name,  joining 
the  young  colony,  had  separated  :  one  going  to  New  Jer- 
sey, where  his  descendants  abound,  the  other  remaining 
at  Barnstable  on  Cape  Cod.  For  two  hundred  years 
this  latter  branch  has  kept  its  place  on  the  sandy  cape, 
and  during  most  of  the  period  has  extended  its  name 
but  a  short  distance  from  the  original  seat.  Like  most 
families  similarly  established,  it  has  had  little  part  in 
that  westward  emigration  which  removes  the  hearth- 
stones from  so  many  New-England  homes.  It  is  not 
the  rich  soil  of  the  West,  but  the  unplanted  deep  lying 
to  the  East,  which  entices  the  young  men  of  Cape  Cod. 
They  sail   over  the  seas  to   distant  lands,  or,  if  less 


2  LIFE  AND  LETTERS   OF 

ambitious,  coast  to  the  Banks  as  fishermen.  A  more 
permanent  removal  is  to  Boston,  where  mercantile  life 
attracts,  especially  that  connected  with  the  sea. 

It  was  at  the  beginning  of  this  century  that  our 
father,  missing,  by  one  of  those  notable  seeming  acci- 
dents, the  vessel  which  was  to  have  started  him  on  a 
sailor's  life,  came  to  Boston  and  began  the  hard  work 
of  an  apprentice  in  business.  Before  he  was  of  age, 
he  was  enabled  to  undertake  business  on  his  own  ac- 
count, and  for  fifty  years  continued  as  a  hardware  and 
commission  merchant,  when  he  retired  from  active  part- 
nership. Of  his  business-life  little  need  be  said.  He 
was  so  long  identified  with  the  city,  that,  without  seek- 
ing distinction,  he  was  widely  known.  His  reputation 
for  honor  and  integrity  in  the  conduct  of  his  business 
was  of  the  highest  kind,  while  his  sound  judgment 
made  him  an  excellent  adviser  and  trustee.  He  had 
lived  in  Boston  thirty  years  when  he  married  Miss 
Coit,  who,  though  born  and  educated  in  New  York, 
was  of  New-England  parentage  and  ancestry.  Through 
the  Manwarino-s  and  Saltonstalls  her  lineao;e  is  traced 
to  Winthrop ;  and  the  families  by  which  she  was  thus 
connected  to  the  Governor  had  centred  chiefly  about 
Norwich,  Connecticut.  Our  father  and  mother  were 
thus  Puritan  in  origin  and  they  preserved  the  princi- 
ples of  Puritan  life,  relieved  of  the  severity  which  an 
earher  necessity  had  imposed  upon  Puritan  manners. 
The  same  principles  held  in  the  conduct  of  the  house- 
hold, while  the  peculiar  state  of  society  in  Boston  at 
that  time  made  more  imperative  that  jealous  ward 
which  Puritanism  is  wont  to  exercise  over  its  fol- 
lowers. 

Dissent  from  the  Trinitarian  creed  had  resulted  in 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  3 

the  separation  of  the  Congregational  Church  into  two 
sects,  —  the  Orthodox,  holding  to  the  old  belief,  and  the 
Unitarian.  A  separation  in  society  had  followed,  quite 
radical  at  first,  from  the  conviction,  on  the  part  of  the 
Orthodox,  that  the  matter  in  dispute  was  of  vital  impor- 
tance and  affected  the  dearest  interests  of  every  man  : 
they  dreaded  worldly-mindedness  as  leading  to  laxity 
of  belief,  and  gave  their  adhesion  to  a  code  of  manners 
which  they  considered  as  witnessing  to  their  system  of 
doctrine.  The  Unitarians,  as  a  body,  conformed  to  an 
outward  state,  opposing  that  of  the  Orthodox,  and  in- 
tended as  a  protest  against  it :  accusing  their  antago- 
nists of  an  unchristian  rio-or  of  life  resultino;  from  a 
narrow  and  slavish  belief,  they  asserted  for  themselves 
what  they  called  a  more  generous  life,  the  offspring  of  a 
more  liberal  faith.  In  1835  the  two  parties  had  been 
so  long  separated  as  to  have  in  some  measure  escaped 
from  the  anger  which  followed  the  open  rupture  ;  the 
increased  intercourse  between  them  had  disabused  each 
of  erroneous  notions  respecting  the  other,  and  the  ex- 
tension of  family  relations  served  still  more  to  produce 
common  feeling;  but,  after  all,  the  antagonism  re- 
mained, even  if  robbed  of  its  harshest  features ;  and  a 
child  born  in  a  family  holding  decided  views  respecting 
the  controversy,  was  likely  to  grow  up  under  social 
influences  representing  and  enforcing  these  views. 

Our  father  was  a  firm  supporter  of  the  Orthodox 
belief,  a  prominent  member  of  the  Orthodox  connec- 
tion, and,  as  Deacon  in  Union  Church,  (Essex  Street,) 
an  active  promoter  of  the  interests  of  his  church.  The 
schools  to  which  he  sent  his  children  were,  with  the 
exception  of  the  public  schools,  under  Orthodox  direc- 
tion ;  their  amusements  and  occupations,  when  touch- 


4  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

ing  questions  of  moral  advantage,  were  made  to  conform 
to  the  standard  of  Orthodox  principles ;  and  in  all  parts 
of  their  education  a  jealous  care  was  exercised,  lest  they 
should  become  lax  in  religious  belief  and  w^orldly- 
minded  in  their  habits  of  life.  In  the  conduct  of  the 
household,  there  was  recognition  of  some  more  pro- 
found meaning  in  life  than  could  find  expression  in 
mere  enjoyment  of  living,  while  the  presence  of  a  real 
religious  sentiment  banished  that  counterfeit  solemnity 
which  would  hang  over  innocent  pleasure  like  a  cloud. 
Yet,  while  this  indicates  the  principles  which  governed 
in  our  home  education,  the  informing  life  which  saved 
the  principles  from  producing  formalism,  or  a  violent 
repulsion,  was  the  personal  presence  of  our  father. 

He  was  the  sunniest-minded  of  men  as  he  was 
physically  the  heartiest :  throughout  a  long  life  he  had 
scarcely  a  day  of  sickness ;  and  with  equal  truth  it  can 
be  said  that  he  never  suffered  in  mind  those  bilious  at- 
tacks which  so  few  escape  ;  the  sunshine  within  seemed 
to  chase  away  morbid  abstractions.  He  led  a  life  of 
peace,  which  was  no  mere  avoidance  of  difficulties,  but 
a  positive  superiority  to  them  ;  he  suffered  reverses  and 
failures,  he  passed  through  grievous  trials,  but  he  kept 
his  spirit  in  contentment ;  his  mind  was  in  perfect  peace. 
There  was  a  light  within  of  holy  love,  which  shone 
through  the  thin  casement  of  his  daily  life  with  increas- 
ing brightness  as  he  neared  the  end  of  his  days.  Life 
never  became  wearisome  to  him,  for  nothing  was  for- 
eign from  his  concern.  The  generous  instincts  of  child- 
hood grew  with  the  growth  of  his  mind  ;  and  it  is  not 
easy  to  over-state  the  hearty  pleasure  with  which  he 
entered  upon  whatever  engaged  his  attention ;  and 
these  things  were  often  the  affairs  of  others,  for  he  in- 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  5 

vited  confidence  by  the  readiness  of  his  interest.  No 
coldness,  no  indifference  even,  could  last  in  his  genial 
presence ;  his  very  smile  was  a  benediction,  and  stran- 
gers were  drawn  to  him  by  the  irresistible  charm  of  his 
countenance. 

It  may  be  judged  how  bright  he  made  his  home.  It 
was  a  Puritan  home  ;  the  "  Assembly's  Shorter  Cate- 
chism "  was  learned  in  it;  the  "  Sabbath  was  strictly  ob- 
served," as  the  saying  is  ;  there  was  no  anxiety  to  meet 
the  world  lialf-way  and  shake  hands  with  it ;  and  yet, 
contrary  to  a  general  prejudice,  there  could  have  been 
no  home  where  a  merrier  laugh  went  up,  and  more 
unaffected,  abundant,  rational  enjoyment  prevailed. 
There  was  seriousness  indeed  among  the  elders,  for  life 
seemed  no  trifling  matter  when  they  looked  so  confi- 
dently to  a  divided  state  in  the  world  beyond,  and  a 
graver  tone  existed  than  might  have  arisen  had  that 
belief  received  no  outside  assaults.  The  children  could 
not  but  perceive  this  seriousness ;  and  if  that  had  been 
the  burden  of  their  elders'  lives,  they  would  likely 
enough  have  been  utterly  repelled  from  a  religion  so 
sombre.  But  if  they  looked  in  the  father's  face,  they 
knew  that  religion  had  not  spoiled  his  life :  as  they  grew 
older,  they  saw  that  it  had  renewed  and  enriched  it. 

There  were  four  older  children  in  the  family  at  the 
time  of  David's  birth.  Within  three  years,  two  more 
boys  were  added  ;  and,  except  that  the  oldest  two  sons 
were  shortly  after  married  and  established  in  Boston, 
the  family  remained  quite  unbroken  for  twenty-five 
years.  The  house  in  which  David  was  born  was  in 
Temple  Place,  but  his  recollections  of  childhood  cen- 
tred chiefly  about  the  one  afterward  occupied  in  Essex 
StrQet,  near  Lincoln.     At  that  time  the  neighborhood 


6  LIFE  AND  LETTERS   OF 

was  a  pleasant  one ;  directly  opposite  stood  the  Or- 
phan Asylum  with  its  open  grounds,  and  the  adjoin- 
ing buildings,  though  plain,  afforded  decent  company. 
Near  the  head  of  the  street,  at  the  corner  of  Rowe, 
stands  Union  Church,  the  ecclesiastical  home  of  the 
family.  The  private  school,  to  which  David  was  sent 
when  a  child,  was  kept  by  Mrs.  Lothrop  and  her 
daughters  in  the  basement  of  the  First  Congregational 
Church,  in  the  same  neighborhood  ;  while  in  the  oppo- 
site direction,  at  an  equal  distance  from  the  house, 
was  the  East-Street  Grammar  School,  where  his  public 
school-days  were  passed. 

It  was  a  simple  but  varied  life  that  we  led.  There 
was  comfort,  without  display,  in  the  household  economy, 
and  pleasure  was  preferred  when  it  brought  the  least 
worry.  The  family  contained  within  itself  abundant 
sources  of  enjoyment.  The  family  connection,  too,  was 
large,  and  a  constant  interchange  of  visits  took  place ; 
so  that  from  one  year's  end  to  the  other,  new  faces  ap- 
peared or  absent  old  ones  reappeared,  creating  a  brisk 
feeling  in  the  house,  and  keeping  alive  that  sort  of 
hearty  cheer  which  seems  to  result  from  a  great  deal  of 
welcoming  and  shaking  of  hands.  A  city-life,  under 
any  circumstances,  furnishes  a  fund  of  novelty  to  citi- 
zens and  strangers  alike  ;  and  as  we  were  content  with 
the  more  simple  forms,  ennui  was  unheard  of.  There 
always  were  concerts  and  lectures  for  the  elders,  shows 
and  celebrations  for  the  children  ;  there  were  Whig 
torch-light  processions,  when  the  house  was  illuminated, 
and  Democratic  ones,  when  all  the  shutters  were  closed 
except  one  in  the  top  story,  where  we  stood  huddled 
together  to  peep  at  the  sight  of  what  we  would  by  no 
means  countenance. 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  7 

The  churcli-relations,  also,  it  may  easily  be  inferred, 
gave  character  to  the  daily  life.  The  children  had 
less  part  here,  but  came  in  for  a  share  of  the  interest. 
By  what  mysterious  power  was  it  that  meetings  of  the 
Maternal  Associations  were  exalted  in  our  eyes  to  the 
dignity  of  state  occasions,  especially  that  yearly  one  at 
the  minister's  house  when  we  received  each  an  apple 
and  a  cake,  invested  by  the  ceremony  with  a  superior 
nature,  and  eaten  slowly,  as  if  they  were  some  exotic 
fruit  ?  A  more  serious  and  thought-provoking  occasion 
was  the  eventful  day  when  we  were  graduated  from  the 
Maternal  Association,  with  the  diploma  of  book  and  note 
from  the  Secretary,  telling  us  that  we  had  now  reached 
the  limit  of  thoughtless  childhood,  and  were  thence- 
forth left  somewhat  to  ourselves,  though  never  beyond 
the  reach  of  the  circle  of  praying  mothers.  Surely, 
with  a  tender  child  a  new  feeling  of  responsibility  is 
suggested  by  this  simple  ceremony,  and  it  was  desired 
in  our  Christian  society  to  produce  such  a  result. 

If  the  seriousness,  the  habit  of  seeking  for  religious 
foundations  in  all  enterprises,  which  held  among  the 
elders,  was  unconsciously  transmitted  to  the  children, 
whatever  direction  religious  enthusiasm  took  in  the 
church  was  even  more  quickly  and  more  fully  taken 
by  the  responsive  enthusiasm  of  the  children  of  the 
church.  Thus  was  it  with  reference  to  the  Foreign 
Missionary  work,  which  at  that  time  excited,  perhaps, 
more  lively  interest  from  its  intimate  connection  with 
the  church-life  in  Boston.  The  missionaries  to  any 
point  sailed  from  the  city,  and  became  individually 
known  to  the  churches.  Their  visits  were  made  the 
occasion  for  special  fervor  of  feeling.  The  Scripture 
promise,  of  a  multiplication   of  homes   to  those  who 


8  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

should  leave  one  for  the  gospel's  sake,  was  fulfilled  in 
the  hospitality  extended  to  every  member  of  the  mis- 
sionary body,  however  humble ;  and  when  such  a 
one  went  on  his  way,  the  ship  which  carried  him  was 
watched  by  hundreds  of  eager  eyes,  and  remembered 
in  hundreds  of  praying  families.  The  more  prominent 
of  these  missionaries,  those  gifted  with  special  powers 
of  eloquence,  or  who  had  enjoyed  long  experience 
abroad,  were  received  with  proportionate  attention,  and 
their  presence  would  form  the  topic  of  conversation, 
and  be  turned  to  the  increase  of  the  missionary  enthu- 
siasm. 

The  enthusiasm  extended,  naturally  enough,  to  the 
humblest  and  youngest.  The  Sunday-schools  had  their 
missionary  societies ;  and  in  such  day-schools  for  young 
children  as  were  under  Orthodox  direction  an  interest 
in  the  cause  was  promoted.  David,  once  enumerating 
in  a  paper  the  causes  of  his  missionary  purpose,  named 
first  the  influence  of  Mrs.  Lothrop,  his  school-teacher ; 
and  it  is  certain  that  pains  were  taken  by  the  more  de- 
vout Christians  to  give  such  a  tendency  to  the  thoughts 
of  their  children  or  pupils.  These  learned  to  associate 
the  missionary  with  all  that  was  especially  heroic. 
They  w^ere  not  taught  to  regard  him  as  a  man  who 
had  made  a  sacrifice  of  all  that  was  pleasant  in  life, 
and  had  done  violence  to  his  nature  ;  they  knew  him 
as  the  highest  t3^pe  of  an  excellence  which  they  were 
daily  bidden  to  strive  after,  and  understood  that  the 
most  cherished  desires  of  their  parents,  the  most  ear- 
nest prayers,  would  be  fulfilled  if  they  were  to  attain 
the  same  position.  I  have  happened  to  read  the  per- 
sonal experience  of  many  young  missionaries  contem- 
porary with  my  brother,  and  in  almost  every  case  there 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  9 

is  reference  to  the  wishes  of  Christian  parents  as  strong 
motives  for  their  subsequent  choice.  My  brother  gave 
as  a  second  motive  in  his  case,  "  My  mother's  wishes." 

Our  father's  house  was  always  open  to  the  mission- 
ary, and  none  sailed  from  the  city  whose  acquaintance 
he  did  not  take  pains  to  make.  Most  of  them  were 
visitors  at  the  house.  Certainly  no  one  gave  them  a 
warmer  welcome  or  a  more  earnest  farewell.  Amono; 
the  most  noticeable  of  these  men  was  Dr.  John  Scud- 
der,  missionary  in  India,  whose  personal  presence,  more 
than  that  of  any  other  man,  I  suppose,  kindled  the 
enthusiasm  of  the  friends  of  missions  in  Boston.  His 
name,  from  the  first,  attracted  our  father's  interest, 
although  the  identity  of  the  two  families  ceased  here, 
since  they  were  removed  from  a  common  origin  by  six 
generations  ar  more.  The  strong  bond  of  a  common 
object,  however,,  stood  in  the  place  of  blood-relation- 
ship, and  ever  after  a  close  attachment  existed  between 
the  two  families,  which  had  frequent  opportunities  of 
expression,  since  Dr.  Scudder  was  accompanied  and 
followed  to  India,  from  time  to  time,  by  a  large  family 
of  sons,  the  youngest  of  whom,  years  afterwards,  sailed 
for  India  in  the  same  ship  with  David. 

Dr.  Scudder  was  known,  and  is  now  remembered  in 
large  part,  by  the  power  which  he  displayed  in  inter- 
esting and  impressing  children.  Whether  he  was  the 
first  to  give  special  attention  to  this  matter,  I  do  not 
know  ;  but  he  succeeded  in  leaving  a  vivid  impression 
upon  the  minds  of  the  children  of  Orthodox  families. 
Possibly  this  vividness  owed  much  to  the  striking  per- 
son of  the  man.  A  childish  recollection  presents  him  to 
me  as  tall  and  commanding,  with  very  white  and  erect 
hair,  generally  adorned,  while  he  was  making  an  ad- 


10  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

dress,  with  gold-bowed  spectacles  that  had  been  pushed 
up  from  the  nose ;  a  penetrating  eye  that  fixed  atten- 
tion, and  a  voice  that  could  terrify  as  well  as  please. 
Indeed,  there  was  considerable  spice  in  his  addresses 
of  suttees  and  self-torture.  Yet,  despite  or  perhaps 
through  this  element  of  terror,  he  wrought  to  great 
effect.  The  fervor  of  his  manner,  which  was  impres- 
sively solemn  at  times,  and  the  excitability  of  his  tem- 
perament, made  children  listen  to  him,  and  come  away 
with  a  sense  of  accountability  to  him  in  the  matter  of 
personal  devotion  to  the  work  of  missions  ;  for  it  was 
a  frequent  word  of  the  Doctor's  that  he  should  expect 
to  meet  this  child  and  that  in  India,  —  yes,  at  the  very 
landing-place  in  Madras  ;  and  many  a  one,  in  the  sim- 
plicity of  a  child's  reasoning,  felt  it  incumbent  upon 
him  not  to  disappoint  his  confident  friend.^  My  brother 
was  very  susceptible  to  personal  influence  of  this  sort ; 
and  when  Dr.  Scudder,  then  staying  at  our  father's 
house,  laid  his  hands  upon  his  head,  and  —  far  as  his 
authority  went  —  set  him  apart  for  mission ar}'-  work  in 
India,  he  gave  implicit  assent,  and  exhibited  thereafter 
a  child's  unquestioning  enthusiasm  for  his  venerable 
friend  and  for  the  cause  which  he  represented.  His 
teacher  relates  that  she  found  it  easy,  in  those  days,  to 
check  his  rebellious  spirit  by  appealing  to  his  honor  as 
her  httle  missionary.  And  in  the  paper  to  which  I 
have  referred,  he  gives  the  third  and  last  cause  of  his 
decision,  "  Dr.  John  Scudder's  personal  interest  and 
influence  over  me." 

If  Dr.  Scudder  had  not  put  in  the  first  claim  for  my 
brother's  services,  perhaps  he  might,  in  after-years, 
have  chosen  the  Nestorian  people  for  his  labors,  so 
strongly  was  he  affected  by  the  visit  to  this  country  of 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  11 

the  Nestorian  BIsliop,  Mar  Yohannan,  who  came  in 
company  with  Dr.  Justin  Perkins,  and  stayed  awhile  at 
our  father's  house.  The  swarthy  Oriental,  with  his 
flowing  robes,  entering  our  New-England  home,  was 
like  a  story  from  the  "  Arabian  Nights."  Half  in  ter- 
ror, but  fascinated  by  his  presence,  the  children  of  the 
family  watched  the  guest  and  followed  him  in  his 
walks.  David  was  engrossed  with  this  wonderful  sight, 
and  for  years  always  kept  in  his  room  a  print  of  the 
Bishop,  with  turban  and  robes  and  sweeping  beard 
attending  a  most  lordly  mien,  and  treasured  up  little 
relics  that  once  had  belonged  to  him.  His  early  inter- 
ests always  kept  their  place.  It  was  not  long  before 
his  death,  that,  wishing  to  institute  some  closer  connec- 
tion between  the  native  Christians  of  his  mission  and 
those  in  other  parts  of  the  world,  he  induced  one  of 
them  to  write  a  letter  to  Mar  Yohannan,  which  was 
answered,  though  my  brother  never  saw  the  reply. 

It  is  easier  to  state  the  special  influences  which  aflect 
early  boyhood  than  to  lay  hold  of  and  measure  those 
of  a  by-character,  which  may  yet  be  quite  powerful. 
If  one  would  see  what  manner  of  man  this  child  would 
be,  he  must  observe  him  not  only  under  the  school- 
mistress' eye,  paying  his  tribute  to  Dr.  Scudder's  power, 
and  guarded  by  the  ordinances  and  habits  which  ruled 
in  the  church  and  household-life  of  a  conscientious 
Orthodox  family,  he  must  see  him  also  in  his  street- 
life  and  in  his  experience  at  a  public  school.  But  just 
this  side  is  the  most  difficult  to  present  by  incidents. 
One  would  have  seen  him,  in  those  days,  a  white- 
haired,  excitable  boy,  brimming  with  life,  never  know- 
ing a  listless  moment,  hurrying  from  school  to  play, 
trapping  pigeons  in  the  freight  depots,  acting  out  all 


12  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

his  boyish  notions  of  Indian  warfare,  and  going  through 
the  whole  zodiac  of  a  boy's  sports  with  untiring  zeal ; 
forming  warm  attachments  to  a  curiously  chosen  band 
of  school-boys  and  neighbors  ;  yet,  by  a  gentleness  easily 
discoverable  under  a  sturdy  exterior,  shrinking  from 
vulgarity,  and  obeying  fearlessly  an  educated  instinct 
of  pure-toned  morality.  He  was  a  troublesome  boy, 
heady  and  determined  ;  but  somehow  quite  as  obstinate 
in  doing  disagreeable  things  which  he  felt  to  be  right, 
as  in  following  the  bent  of  his  will  when  it  opposed 
itself  to  authority.  He  w^as  a  little  torment  to  his 
brothers  from  pure  love  of  fun,  and  stood  in  the  way 
of  their  peace  provokingly  ;  but  mean  and  dishonorable 
he  never  was.  With  a  natural  shrinking  from  inflict- 
ing pain,  and  an  almost  timid  nature,  he  never  came  to 
blows  w^ith  his  comrades,  and  never  made  any  enemies ; 
yet  he  was  constantly  getting  into  half-serious  quarrels, 
and  making  up  in  some  irresistible  fashion,  which  kept 
him  always  a  favorite  and  always  a  vexation. 

His  earliest  associations  were  of  the  city,  with  a  few 
summer  hints  of  country  pleasures,  for  which  he  showed 
a  most  eager  relish.  To  the  Cape,  also,  our  family 
went  every  year,  visiting  the  old  homestead.  At  first, 
before  the  railway  was  built,  the  journey  was  the  gi'eat 
charm,  when  we  were  packed  into  a  carriage  and  drove 
at  our  own  leisure,  making  two  or  tlu^ee  days  on  the 
road.  Cotuit  Port,  Hyannis  Port,  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  Cape  to  Barnstable,  and  Chatham,  nearer  the 
horn,  were  the  visiting-places ;  and  half  of  the  pleas- 
ure was  in  the  hearty  zest  with  which  our  father  re- 
turned to  his  boyish  scenes,  was  welcomed  by  his  old 
friends,  —  he  seemed  to  know  every  soul  on  the  road,  — 
and  pointed  out  to  us  his  old  work  and  play-grounds  ; 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  13 

while  we  children  tried  for  ourselves  the  edge  of  the 
ocean,  and  fished  off  the  rocks,  that,  at  low  tide,  lie 
along  the  shore  at  Hyannis  like  sea-monsters.  David 
was  the  most  venturesome,  and  was  in  perpetual  excite- 
ment at  wind  and  wave,  throwing  himself,  after  his 
impetuous  manner,  into  the  life  of  a  Cape-Cod  hoy^  as 
if  he  never  had  lived  in  Boston,  and  scorching  his  feet 
in  a  fearful  manner,  because  he  would  go  barefoot  like 
his  cousins,  though  the  sand  was  hot  and  the  beach- 
grass  sharp. 

When  he  was  eleven  years  of  age,  the  family  re- 
moved from  the  city.  Some  change  was  necessary,  for 
the  neighborhood  of  the  house  had  become  changed  by 
the  approach  of  the  foreign  population,  that,  with  busi- 
ness, turns  so  many  families  out  of  their  old  homes. 
The  purity  of  the  childrens'  lives,  however,  formed  the 
strongest  reason  for  moving  to  a  place  then  on  the 
country  side  of  the  city  of  Roxbury,  three  miles  from 
Boston.  The  house  was  a  large  brick  one,  on  Warren 
Street,  standing  high  enough  to  command,  from  its 
upper  windows,  a  noble  view  of  the  harbor,  and  sur- 
rounded by  thirty  acres  of  land,  partially  under  culti- 
vation. A  half-dozen  acres  only  were  attached  to  the 
house  ;  but  no  visible  boundaries  separated  the  remain- 
der, while  there  adjoined  the  place  quite  an  extensive 
piece  of  wood  and  pasture  land,  since  reclaimed,  to- 
gether with  the  grounds,  for  building  purposes,  but  then 
affording  an  excellent  play  and  roving  field.  Beyond 
was  pretty  open  country,  with  half-wild  patches  of 
woodland  and  small  ponds ;  so  that,  with  the  city  at 
handy  distance  on  one  side,  and  the  country  on  the 
other,  abundant  variety  of  scenery  and  occupation  was 
furnished.    It  was  no  great  distance  either  to  the  water- 


14  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

side,  where  the  harbor  pushes  its  way  to  the  border  of 
Roxbury  and  Dorchester,  affording  a  capital  swimming- 
place. 

The  restless  activity  which,  with  David,  had  spent 
itself  in  street  sports  and  on  such  pets  as  a  city  yard 
would  permit,  found  in  the  country  unlimited  range ; 
and  as  he  had  a  healthy  practical  side  to  his  nature, 
all  possible  pleasure  and  good  seemed  contained  in  a 
farmer's  life.  He  became  instantly  all  alive  to  such 
pursuits,  and  was  by  no  means  a  play-farmer  boy,  but 
one  in  good  earnest.  He  had  his  plot,  where  he  made 
vecjetables  crrow  whether  they  would  or  not,  watchino; 
them  with  untiring  vigilance  ;  he  kept  hens  and  pigs, 
which  always  throve  under  his  care ;  and  in  the  larger 
cattle  he  seemed  to  claim  an  ownership  by  the  interest 
which  he  showed  in  them ;  while  to  his  collection  of 
pets,  rabbits,  pigeons,  and  fancy  fowl,  he  gave  the 
most  zealous  attention.  His  generous  and  simple  na- 
ture showed  itself  in  the  intense  interest  which  he  felt 
in  the  tribe  of  animals  about  him ;  he  loved  them 
almost  as  if  they  were  children,  not  with  any  foolish 
sentimentalism,  but  with  a  wholesome-,  hearty  affection. 
I  remember  an  instance  of  that  steadfast,  unflinching 
affection  with  which  David  held  to  anybody  or  any- 
thing once  finding  a  place  in  his  heart,  in  the  persist- 
ence with  which  he  clung  to  a  house-dog  when  it  grew 
old  and  was  afflicted  with  a  loathsome  disease.  Nep 
had  some  horrible  ulcer  in  his  head,  and  spent  his  days 
flapping  his  ears  and  howling  and  rolling  over  and  over, 
but  David  stood  stoutly  by  his  shaggy  and  disgraced 
friend,  walked  with  him,  played  with  him,  defended 
him  against  all  the  reproaches  of  those  unable  to  find 
Nep  endurable,  and  never  bated  one  jot  of  his  affec- 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  15 

tionate  care  to  the  end.  The  end  was  the  drowning 
of  the  poor  animal,  after  David  had  entered  college,  and 
he  writes  home,  upon  hearing  of  it,  "  I  had  a  real  cry- 
ing spell  over  Nep.     However,  I  am  glad  he  is  dead." 

The  same  strong  attachment  took  hold  of  the  place 
itself.  He  scoured  all  the  country  about  in  his  walks 
and  sports,  knew  the  wood-paths  and  the  depths  of  the 
ponds  ;  and  afterward,  when  he  had  left  college  and  the 
family  had  returned  to  the  city,  he  took  many  an  ex- 
cursion to  the  place  and  lingered  about  his  old  haunts. 
May-day  became  a  sort  of  anniversary  to  him,  when  he 
would  walk  out  to  Roxbury,  lie  down  in  the  woods 
overlooking  the  pond  where  he  had  skated  and  fished, 
or  sent  Nep  in  on  errands  after  sticks  and  stones,  and 
mingle  these  recollections  with  ardent  anticipations.  It 
was  a  most  hearty  and  natural  life  which  he  led  in  those 
days,  entering  with  such  contagious  zest  into  all  his  pur- 
suits, and  finding  in  the  free  air  which  bore  his  shouts  a 
spirit  akin  to  his  own,  in  his  dog  bounding  beside  him  a 
companion  that  could  respond  to  his  exuberance  better 
even  than  his  playfellows. 

Of  playfellows  he  had  an  abundance,  both  because 
he  was  so  popular  and  because  his  father's  place  afforded 
such  a  capital  rendezvous.  Something  always  was  go- 
ing on.  Up  early  in  the  morning,  he  was  out  feeding 
his  dependants  in  the  barn-yard ;  rushing  off  to  his  plot 
with  Nep  at  his  heels ;  riding  the  horse  bareback  or 
chasing  his  rabbits ;  running  to  school  across  fields  at 
the  last  moment,  and  coming  in  out  of  breath  with  just 
enough  surplusage  of  spirits  to  keep  him  on  the  verge 
of  disgrace  or  difficulty ;  rushing  for  the  bats  or  the 
football  at  recess,  and  going  home  on  the  same  fast  run 
which  never  fell  off  into  a  saunter ;  using  every  spare 


16  LIFE  AND  LETTERS   OF 

moment  at  noon  for  farm-work ;  repeating  the  morning 
in  the  afternoon,  and  ending  the  day  in  a  race  with 
his  dog  np  or  down  street,  or  across  the  pasture.  In 
short,  one  remembers  him  in  those  days  as  half  intoxi- 
cated with  Ufe,  wilful  in  his  love  of  freedom,  and 
impatient  of  all  restraint.  His  wilfulness  frequently  was 
obstinacy ;  he  was  a  hard  boy  to  manage,  but  down  at 
the  bottom  of  his  heart,  beneath  the  rough  exterior, 
was  a  stroncr  love,  and  in  all  his  actions  one  could  read 
the  manly  stuff  of  which  he  was  made. 

Shortly  after  the  removal  to  Roxbury  he  was  sent 
to  the  Latin  School  of  the  town,  and  spent  four  years 
in  immediate  preparation  for  college.  Mr.  Charles 
Short,  now  President  of  Kenyon  College,  was  the 
master  of  the  school,  and  under  his  instruction  David 
formed  a  more  thorough,  and  at  the  same  time  more 
genial  acquaintance  with  the  classics  than  falls  to  the 
lot  of  most  lads  not  living  in  the  city.  He  always  was 
extremely  apt  at  acquiring  language,  and  indeed  so 
glib  in  his  use  of  a  tongue  as  to  be  obliged  to  guard 
against  the  superficiality  of  ready  linguists.  His  taste 
for  pure  nonsense  took  the  form  of  a  liking  for  out- 
landish vocables,  and  kept  him  not  only  airing  his  new 
languages  at  odd  moments,  but  also  contriving  new 
combinations  and  discoursing  in  tongues  unknown  even 
to  himself  When  he  came  to  exercise  himself  upon 
the  Tamil  speech,  he  found  his  organs  of  utterance  in 
a  tractile  condition  which  may  have  owed  something 
to  these  boyish  practices.  For  mathematics  he  had  no 
inclination,  while  letter-writing  and  composition  of 
any  kind  were  very  distasteful.  This  was  natural 
enough,  for  he  had  not  yet  begun  to  think ;  he  was 
thoroughly  a  boy  in  his  entire  freedom  from  speculative 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  17 

habits ;  he  did  not  know  what  an  abstraction  was,  and 
indeed  pure  meditation  never  was  very  natural  to  him ; 
his  mind  seized  most  firmly  upon  what  was  presented 
in  some  concrete  form.  His  early  letters,  few  enough 
in  number,  are  amusing  for  the  naivete  with  which  this 
outness  of  life  is  displayed ;  he  begins  with  what  he 
has  last  seen,  and  if,  before  he  has  finished  the  account, 
something  comes  to  interrupt  it,  down  goes  a  notice  of 
that  in  a  parenthesis,  and  then  he  resumes  his  thread. 
I  think  that  he  went  through  his  preparatory  course 
with  very  little  intellectual  excitement ;  his  quickness 
and  habit  of  obeying,  rather  than  any  fondness  for 
study,  carried  him  through  with  credit. 

It  was  this  habit  of  attendino;  to  what  was  riocht  at 
hand  which  gave  him  so  tenacious  a  hold  of  life,  and 
induced  such  hearty  concern  for  all  his  interests  and 
associations.  Thus  in  school  he  studied  hard  ;  in  play- 
time he  played  with  a  will ;  and  as  for  all  the  drudgery 
of  farm-work,  he  entered  into  it  with  a  spirit  which 
never  flagged.  It  was  not  strange,  therefore,  that  places 
and  animals  and  friends  to  whom  he  had  given  so  much 
of  himself  should  have  a  strong  hold  upon  his  affec- 
tions. Toward  his  school  -  comrades  he  never  grew 
cool.  In  after-years  he  would  come  home  delighted  at 
having  met  in  the  street  some  one  of  them  whom  per- 
haps he  had  not  seen  for  years  ;  he  sought  them  out 
and  cared  for  their  spiritual  interest  when  that  became 
the  chief  thing  in  his  mind ;  and  in  his  letters  from 
India,  would  sometimes  break  out  into  a  naming  of  one 
after  another  of  his  playmates,  with  whom  school  con- 
nection was  quite  all  that  he  had  ever  had,  and  ask  a 
remembrance  of  them  should  his  brothers  ever  chance 
upon  them. 


18  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

He  was  as  true  to  his  nature  when  in  the  church  as 
when  in  the  school-room  or  the  playground.  His 
religious  training,  both  at  home  and  abroad,  was  of 
that  kind  which  looks  to  firm  foundations  of  relimous 
belief.  It  was  taught  him  that  nothing  short  of  a  rad- 
ical change  of  heart  would  answer  the  requirements  of 
God's  word.  AH  the  ordinances  of  religion  acknowl- 
edged  the  necessity,  and  there  was  no  room  left  for  tlie 
satisfaction  of  conscience  short  of  this  complete  change. 
David's  naturalness  and  love  of  truth  would  have  re- 
volted at  any  suggestion  of  assuming  a  concern  which 
he  did  not  feel,  while  his  Puritan  instinct  and  education 
made  him  accept  without  question  the  religious  observ- 
ances which  were  required  of  him.  He  had  no  liking 
for  these,  but  he  kept  to  them  with  particular  obstinacy 
when  they  happened  to  be  rather  disagreeable  or  un- 
popular, and  was  wholly  indifferent  to  ridicule.  I 
remember  how,  when  he  saw  one  coming  whom  he 
disliked  and  whom  he  knew  to  be  seeking  him  for  the 
sake  of  giving  advice  upon  matters  of  religion,  he 
jumped  behind  a  stone  wall  and  mischievously  watched 
him  through  the  chinks  as  he  went  by,  looking  about  in 
astonishment  at  the  sudden  disappearance  of  the  boy ; 
and  I  remember  also  how,  wishing  to  complete  a  read- 
ing of  the  Bible  within  some  appointed  time,  and  find- 
ing himself  in  arrears,  he  read  the  book  at  every  spare 
moment  with  a  ludicrous  energy,  —  in  the  barn,  on  the 
school-house  steps  in  recess-time,  or  wherever  opportu- 
nity occurred,  quite  regardless  of  quip  or  remonstrance. 
The  missionary  zeal  which  had  possessed  the  child 
found  in  the  boy  no  outward  expression  at  least,  for  he 
understood  very  well  that  missionary  life  was   condi- 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  19 

tloiied  on  a  religious  character  which  he  did  not  pre- 
tend to  have. 

He  regarded  going  to  college  as  a  matter  which  he 
could  not  very  well  avoid,  and  he  did  not  therefore 
worry  himself  much  about  it,  though  he  thought  it 
rather  an  unnecessary  measure  far  one  who  was  to  be 
a  farmer.  It  was  the  height  of  his  ambition  now  to 
emigrate  West  in  a  covered  wagon,  containing  his 
goods  and  chattels,  while  he  walked  beside  in  a  smock, 
and  a  dooj  ran  beneath  the  waojon  with  that  studied 
precision  of  gait  which  always  astonished  him.  The 
summer  before  he  entered  college  he  spent  upon  the 
large  farm  of  a  relation  in  Wethersfield,  Connecticut, 
where  he  was  thoroughly  in  his  element,  working  with 
a  zeal  and  steadiness  which  won  the  praises  of  the 
farmer  himself,  generally  incredulous  of  the  agricultural 
fever  of  city-boys.  "  To-day,"  he  writes,  after  recount- 
ing the  glories  of  his  life  there,  "  I  am  going  to  study, 
although  I  do  hate  to.  I  do  not  want  to  go  to  college, 
but  should  like  to  stay  here  all  the  time.  If  I  stay 
here  much  longer  I  shall  be  a  decided  farmer."  His 
father,  always  ready  to  humor  the  taste  of  his  sons, 
knew  that  he  was  too  young  to  decide  for  himself,  so 
he  required  at  least  a  year  or  two  of  college-life  before 
letting  him  have  his  way  in  this.  David's  habit  of  obe- 
dience had  more  force  than  his  mere  inclination,  and  he 
entered  on  college-life  with  his  customary  heartiness, 
which  never  permitted  any  "  might  have  beens  "  to  inter- 
fere with  the  business  at  hand.  His  parents,  solicitous 
first  of  all  for  his  spiritual  welfare,  indicated  a  preference 
for  Williams  College,  where  education  was  under  guard 
of  Orthodox  principles,  and  where  a  man  was  the  head 


20  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

whose  name,  besides  its  renown  in  philosophic  inquiry, 
was  a  security  for  the  maintenance  of  those  principles 
in  their  integrity.  David  joined  the  Freshman  Class 
of  the  college  in  September,  1851,  just  before  the  close 
of  his  sixteenth  year. 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  21 


k 


CHAPTER   11. 

COLLEGE  LIFE  —  FRESHMAN  YEAR. 

[1851-1852.] 

"  My  earliest  recollections  of  Dave,"  writes  one  of 
his  classmates,  "  is  of  seeing  a  white-haired  boy  in  short 
jacket  dart  out  of  the  house  next  above  mine,  at  recita- 
tion-time, and  move  up  the  street  on  a  keen  run.  That 
was  his  usual  street-gait ;  indeed  I  cannot  seem  to  asso- 
ciate him  with  a  sober  walk  at  all."  His  boyishness 
at  the  first  marked  him,  for  though  there  were  some  in 
the  class  younger  in  years,  these  were  every  one  more 
mature,  and  at  any  rate  concealed  much  of  their  youth 
under  the  cloak  of  college  dignity.  David  was  a  boy  in 
mind  and  in  manner,  —  wholly  unconventional  in  his 
habits,  with  an  instinct  of  freedom  which  at  home  sent 
him  roaming  over  the  fields,  and  showed  itself  also  in 
a  determined  will,  a  capricious  impatience  of  restraint. 
The  change  in  his  outward  life  brought  influences 
which  acted  upon  his  growth  with  great  force,  and 
produced  a  more  rapid  development  than  would  have 
seemed  possible  under  other  circumstances.  At  home 
his  love  for  nature,  which  was  one  manifestation  of  his 
instinct  of  freedom,  had  fed  upon  the  decorous  forms 
of  suburban  beauty ;  now  he  came  suddenly  upon  the 
mountains  and  rushing  streams  and  untamed  tracts  of 
northern  Berkshire.  He  knew  not  why,  but  he  knew 
how  much  this  wildness  and  unshorn  strength  responded 
to  his  instinctive  desires,  and  at  once  threw  himself 


22  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

eagerly  into  out-door  life,  without  a  thought  of  any- 
thing beyond  a  natural  liking  for  it,  and  yet  surely 
receiving  in  return  the  fullest  reward. 

To  those  unfamiliar  with  this  district,  it  would  be 
hard  to  convey  a  notion  of  its  impressive  character. 
The  town  itself  rests  upon  the  uneven  surface  of  a  val- 
ley surrounded  by  hills,  which  rise  in  several  instances 
to  the  dignity  of  mountains  as  regards  height,  and  in 
almost  all  cases  have  the  gullied  declivities  character- 
istic of  the  mountain  formation.  The  valley  through 
which  the  Hoosac  River  flows  is  cultivated,  and  con- 
tains many  spots  of  tender  beauty ;  especially  is  this 
tenderness  discovered  when  looked  at  from  East  Moun- 
tain which  banks  the  river,  but  the  prevailing  impres- 
sion made  by  the  scenery  is  of  a  ruder,  wilder  force. 
The  roads  which  lead  in  various  directions,  connecting 
the  town  with  North  Adams,  with  Pittsfield,  with  Ben- 
nington, and  with  Troy,  either  follow  the  winding  course 
of  streams  or  climb  and  descend  successive  hills,  so  that 
by  no  one  of  the  travelled  ways  can  one  fail  to  find 
variety  of  scenery,  sudden  surprises,  and  often  pretty 
rough  passage.  But  the  roads  do  not  reveal  the  chief 
wonders  of  the  country.  Only  one  who  climbs  the 
mountain-paths,  and  strikes  off  from  the  rocky  roads  to 
follow  a  brook  or  reach  some  remote  patch  of  wood  or 
pasture  land,  learns  the  secrets  of  this  wild  and  glorious 
spot. 

The  tops  of  the  surrounding  mountains  were  the 
goals  which  my  brother,  with  his  restless  eagerness,  from 
the  first  desired  to  reach.  He  seized  the  opportunity 
of  every  holiday  to  climb  Greylock  or  West  or  East 
Mountain,  and  cast  his  straining  look  to  the  horizon, 
sweeping  an  arc  which  embraced,  sometimes  the  scarred 


DAVID   COIT   SCUDDER.  23 

sides  of  other  mountains,  and  sometimes  the  quiet  farms 
and  still  life  of  the  valley.  Part  of  his  satisfaction  was 
in  the  rough  ascent,  before  which  he  was  undaunted 
and  in  which  he  never  faltered,  in  the  bracing  air  of 
the  heights,  and  in  the  sensation  of  animal  vigor ;  part 
in  the  wide  range  of  vision  and  the  fuller  life  which 
seems  to  flow  about  one  on  those  solitary  summits.  I 
can  see  him  now,  upon  the  top  of  Greylock,  as  he  de- 
scribes himself  in  an  early  letter,  going  away  from  the 
smoky  tower  and  the  groups  of  uproarious  students,  to 
a  lonely  rock  looking  off  upon  the  broad  view,  and 
shouting  forth,  in  the  exultation  of  his  spirits,  the  morn- 
ing song  which  Milton  puts  into  Adam's  mouth,  begin- 
ning, — 

"These  are  Thy  glorious  works,  Parent  of  Good, 
Almighty.     Thine  this  universal  frame." 

It  always  did  him  good  to  shout.  I  never  was  with 
him  under  similar  circumstances  but  that  he  would 
give  expression  to  his  excitement  in  one  or  t^yo  prodig- 
ious yells,  after  which  the  quieter  thoughts  and  emo- 
tions would  have  their  turn  in  a  pertinacious  silence. 
This  shouting  or  singing  aloud  by  himself  was  a  favor- 
ite occupation ;  it  was,  to  use  a  common  simile,  a  way 
of  letting  off  steam.  I  remember  how,  once  in  his 
Senior  year,  walking  alone  upon  one  of  the  Williams- 
town  roads,  no  one  in  sight,  he  was  bawling  at  the  top 
of  his  voice,  when  suddenly,  upon  turning  a  corner,  he 
came  full  upon  the  college  President,  who  was  as  much 
entertained  as  David  was  confused  at  the  encounter. 

From  the  very  first  he  entered  upon  this  hearty  out- 
door life.  Indeed,  he  was  so  fresh  in  his  enjoyment  of 
it,  so  boyish  in  his  wav  of  engaoino;  in  it,  that  his 
friends  were  all  the  while  kept  amused  by  his  freaks. 


24  LIFE  AND   LETTERS   OF 

The  longer  walks  could  only  be  taken  on  holidays  ;  but 
the  hills,  which  were  at  an  easy  distance  from  the  col- 
lege, afforded  an  opportunity  for  numerous  short  excur- 
sions. Flora's  Glen,  a  wild  ravine,  and  Stone  Hill 
were  his  favorite  haunts.  On  the  latter  he  began  to 
set  rabbit  and  squirrel  traps  as  soon  as  he  had  become 
fairly  domiciled.  He  had  rather  meagre  success,  con- 
sidering the  pains  he  took ;  but  that  made  no  differ- 
ence. Almost  every  day,  alone  or  witli  a  comrade,  he 
would  trudge  up  the  steep  hill  to  look  after  his  traps ; 
and  when  he  did  catch  an  animal,  he  made  his  friends 
nearly  as  much  interested  as  himself,  by  the  contagion 
of  his  enthusiasm.  His  early  letters  always  contain 
some  notice  of  a  hunt  after  rabbits,  apples,  or  nuts, 
what  new  style  of  trap  he  meant  to  contrive,  and  how 
he  had  learned  to  skin  his  captives.  He  joined  the 
Lyceum  of  Natural  History,  then  in  a  most  impover- 
ished and  unsteady  condition ;  and  although  he  never 
brought  much  scientific  learning  into  the  meetings,  he 
had  such  a  healthy  enthusiasm  that  he  was  a  valuable 
member  of  the  society. 

His  first  winter  in  Williamstown  quite  intoxicated 
him,  one  might  think.  The  long,  blustering,  and 
stormy  season  which  shrivels  up  a  good  many  students, 
and  makes  Williams'  graduates  shiver  as  they  recal  it, 
seemed  to  bring  out  all  the  glow  of  his  nature.  In 
those  early  days,  with  a  sort  of  stubborn  hardihood,  he 
disdained  great-co^ts,  and  never  would  wear  them  until 
the  severity  of  two  or  three  Williamstown  winters  and 
the  sensitiveness  of  a  changing  physique  forced  him  into 
them  ;  he  always  displayed  a  ludicrous  horror  of  them, 
as  if  they  would  make  him  effeminate.  His  classmates 
remember  his  grotesque  appearance  that  Freshman  win- 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  25 

ter,  as,  wearing  his  boyish  roundabout,  but  no  coat,  his 
feet  encased  in  enormous  India-rubber  boots,  his  hands 
in  great  fur  gloves,  and  his  head  smothered  under  a  fur 
cap,  he  would  clatter  down  West  College  staircase, 
dragging  at  his  heels  the  sled  of  which  he  was  so 
proud. 

His  growth  in  character  was  favored  not  only  by  the 
wild  and  fascinating  country,  which  called  forth  his 
instincts  of  freedom  and  gave  force  and  direction  to  his 
nature,  but  also  by  separation  from  home  and  the  con- 
sequent necessity  for  self-dependence.  He  was  much 
younger  in  mind  and  experience  than  most  boys  of  his 
age,  and,  in  common  with  all  who  lead  an  instinctive 
life,  had  accepted  with  implicit  confidence  the  guidance 
of  his  superiors.  He  was  slow  in  assuming  responsi- 
bility, even  in  minor  matters  of  college  experience ;  he 
felt  no  disposition  to  release  himself  from  his  accus- 
tomed dependence.  In  nothing  was  his  inexperience 
more  noticeable  than  in  his  absolute  freedom  from 
<'  knowingness."  I  take  the  word  of  one  of  the  most 
observing  of  his  classmates  when  I  say  that  it  was  a 
thing  rare  and  quite  unexampled  to  find  one  who,  like 
David,  had  spent  his  early  days  in  the  streets  of  Bos- 
ton, and  all  of  his  youth  in  public  schools,  with  almost 
unrestrained  choice  of  associates,  so  incredibly  ignorant 
of  what  is  called  "  the  world."  Not  long  after  enter- 
ing college,  some  allusion  was  made,  in  the  chat  of  a 
knot  of  students,  when  David  was  present,  to  a  class- 
mate who  had  been  drunk  the  night  before.  Nothing 
so  very  astonishing  to  them  in  this,  however  else  they 
might  regard  it ;  but  David  was  aghast.  "  Drunk  !  " 
said  he  ;  "a  fellow  in  college,  and  in  our  class,  drunk  I 
Why,  I  did  not  know  that  any  one  in  college  ever  was 


26  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

drunk  !  "  His  incredulity  must  have  been  matched  by 
that  of  his  companions  at  his  unheard-of  simphcity. 
This  is  but  a  single  example  of  his  ignorance  of  evil, 
and  also  of  his  na/ive  frankness  in  admitting  the  igno- 
rance. 

How  much  his  home  education  and  how  much  his 
semi-country  life  had  served  as  safeguards  against  a 
famiharity  with  forms  of  evil,  it  is  impossible  to  say  ; 
but  it  is  most  natural  to  refer  his  ignorance  of  the 
world  to  his  own  straightforward  and  transparent  char- 
acter, under  the  favoring  influence  of  a  religious  train- 
ing. His  simplicity  of  nature  would  not  invite,  but 
rather  check  solicitations  of  evil ;  an  education  based 
upon  firm  principles  of  the  highest  morality  fortified 
his  natural  security  against  gross  temptation  ;  and, 
finally,  his  whole-souled  absorption  in  out-door  life 
furnished  an  escape  for  his  animal  vigor.  The  same 
causes  conspired  to  protect  him,  now  that  he  was 
brought  into  more  immediate  contact  with  evil,  and 
was  also  left  more  to  his  own  control.  Danger  there 
w^as,  and  he  drew  a  long  breath  in  after-years  as  he 
considered  what  he  had  escaped.  What  he  might  have 
been,  he  could  see  in  the  wrecks  about  him  of  boys 
who  had  come  up  to  college  with  much  the  same  fresh- 
ness that  belonged  to  him,  but  who  had  not  withstood 
the  shock  of  evil  communications. 

The  students  at  Williams  then  numbered  about  two 
hundred  and  forty,  distributed  pretty  equally  among 
the  four  classes.  The  college  formed  a  community  by 
itself  distinct  from  the  village  ;  and  since  it  was  so 
small  a  community,  and  so  dependent  upon  its  internal 
resources  for  comfort  and  pleasure,  there  was  more 
mutual  acquaintance  than  holds  in  larger  colleges  and 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  27 

in  those  near  cities.  Many  knew  not  only  their  own 
class  well,  but  a  large  portion  of  the  upper  or  lower 
classes.  The  societies  brought  men  together,  and  it  was 
consequently  a  pretty  compact  community,  in  which 
each  individual  with  difficulty  remained  aloof.  The 
country  element  was  dominant,  and  served  to  give  a 
certain  tone  to  the  society  there  which  it  is  hard  ex- 
actly to  describe.  In  part,  a  sturdy  independence 
belonged  to  many  of  the  countrymen,  the  result  per- 
haps of  an  early  necessity  of  self-reliance  ;  a  high  esti- 
mate of  the  value  of  education  ;  and  a  determination 
to  make  the  most  of  college,  giving  a  healthy  tone  to 
the  life  there.  With  this  frequently  was  associated 
a  pettiness  and  narrowness  of  conduct,  a  ridiculous 
eagerness  for  small  distinction,  an  incorrect  understand- 
ing of  what  college  could  do  for  them,  and  a  ludicrous 
exaggeration  of  the  grandeur  of  the  college  equipments. 
All  this  was  tempered  by  a  certain  infusion  of  city  civil- 
ization, in  the  form  of  a  generosity  running  too  often 
into  recklessness ;  a  courtesy  which  is  bred  of  inter- 
course with  cultivated  men  and  women,  but  which,  in 
the  weaker  sort,  became  mere  foppishness  ;  an  acquaint- 
ance, moreover,  with  the  refinement  of  learning,  a  side 
rarely  exposed  to  the  country  seeker  after  wisdom. 
Though  a  city-boy,  David  was  strongly  countryish  in 
his  inclinations.  His  taste,  which  led  him  to  take 
pleasure  in  the  worth  of  men,  unaffected  by  their  social 
culture,  was  confirmed  here,  and  a  habit  induced  of 
measuring  men  generally  by  a  more  liberal  standard 
than  refined  society  is  apt  to  adopt. 

His  intercourse  with  his  college-mates  threw  him 
among  those  who  were  older  and  more  accustomed  to 
self-management.     They  were  wonders  of  wisdom  and 


28  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

experience  in  his  eyes,  and  he  looked  up  to  some  even 
in  his  own  class  with  a  real  veneration.  He  accepted 
implicitly  the  lead  of  these,  transferring  to  them  the 
faith  which  he  had  reposed  in  his  superiors  at  home. 
Yet  every  new  experience  added  to  his  self-reliance,  and, 
after  the  novelty  of  college-life  had  worn  off  a  little,  he 
began  quite  unconsciously  to  live  less  instinctively,  and 
to  bring  some  reflection  to  bear  upon  his  position.  One 
can  hardly  speak  too  positively  of  the  absence  hitherto 
of  any  exercise  of  thought  as  directed  toward  himself; 
he  lived  freely  and  outwardly  as  a  child.  The  new 
atmosphere  of  college,  however,  where  he  found  his  fel- 
lows engaged  upon  subjects  of  thought  quite  beyond 
his  wondering  mind,  and  the  stimulus  which  a  commu- 
nity of  students  supplies,  did  awaken  thought  in  him. 
The  separation  from  home,  too,  brought  an  old  influ- 
ence in  new  shape,  —  his  father's  counsel,  —  which 
would  now  be  given  through  letters  more  systemati- 
cally, and  with  the  weight  both  of  fatherly  affection 
and  of  remoteness.  There  began  a  kind  of  intercourse 
which  was  impossible  in  earlier  days.  The  entrance 
of  the  son  upon  a  regular  educational  course,  away 
from  home,  elevated  him  to  a  more  independent  posi- 
tion, and  it  was  easy  and  natural  for  the  father  to  ad- 
dress him,  not  in  the  tone  of  parental  authority,  but  in 
that  of  a  wise  man  talking  familiarly  with  his  junior 
whom  he  takes  into  his  counsels,  treatino-  him  as  almost 
an  equal.  How  happily  his  father  could  use  this  tone 
is  instanced  by  the  following  extract  from  a  letter  writ- 
ten at  this  time  :  — 

ROXBURY,  Oct.  6,  1851. 
My  dear  Son  David  :  —  You  made  us  all  very 
happy  by  so  long  and  so  nice  a  letter,  and  particularly 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  29 

because  we  found  by  it  that  you  were  happy  and  con- 
tented at  Williamstown,  both  in  respect  to  your  college 
duties  and  your  boarding-place.  I  have  no  doubt  that 
the  more  you  think  of  the  duties  that  now  devolve 
upon  you,  the  more  you  will  think  of  the  responsibility 
that  attaches  to  those  duties.  We  have  placed  you  in 
college  from  the  conviction,  after  much  thought  and 
prayer,  that  your  ultimate  happiness  and  success  in  life 
would  be  promoted  by  it.  I  have  long  felt  that  I  never 
would  consent,  if  I  could  avoid  it,  to  place  any  more 
of  my  sons  in  the  commercial  life,  because  my  own 
experience  is  decidedly  averse  to  it ;  and  as  to  any  me- 
chanical business,  unless  there  is  a  predilection  that 
way,  or  a  bent  of  mind  decidedly  in  favor  of  such  pur- 
suits, I  have  not  thought  it  desirable  to  have  any  of  my 
sons  go  to  a  mechanical  trade ;  but  it  has  been  the 
height  of  my  ambition  to  give  to  all  my  dear  boys  a 
good  education,  because  I  have  seen,  in  the  experience 
of  many  years,  that  boys,  when  well  educated,  make 
men,  and  men  that  can  make  their  way  in  the  world 
somehow ;  that  is,  if  they  do  not  abuse  their  privileges 
by  neglecting  them,  and  giving  themselves  over  to  the 
Evil  One.  Now  if  you  would  continue  to  make  me 
bappy,  you  will  persevere  in  your  studies,  conquer  all 
the  obstacles  that  come  in  your  way,  and  if  you  do  not 
gain  the  eminence  you  aim  at,  be  careful  to  deserve  it 
by  your  diligence  and  good  conduct  in  all  respects,  so 
as  to  gain  the  love  and  good-will  of  your  teachers  and 

your  fellow-students 

Your  affectionate  father, 

Charles  Scudder. 

While  he  was  in  the  full  tide  of  his  hearty  enjoy- 


30  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

ment,  engaging  with  zest  in  all  his  pursuits,  setting 
rabbit-traps  on  Stone  Hill  and  exploring  the  country 
about,  there  came  news  to  him  of  severe  losses  in  busi- 
ness which  his  father  had  suffered,  involving  the  neces- 
sity of  greater  economy  in  the  mode  of  life  at  home, 
and  possibly  the  removal  from  the  country  place  to 
which  all  had  become  so  attached.  In  the  simplicity 
of  his  heart,  he  went  straightwa}^  to  the  Professor  of 
Mathematics,  as  the  authority  most  competent  to  ex- 
plain to  him  the  true  nature  of  a  failure  in  business, 
and  one  also  of  whose  good  feeling  and  sympathy  he 
felt  assured.  After  getting  all  the  light  he  could,  he 
made  up  his  mind  promptly  as  to  his  duty. 

He  wrote  home  begging  to  be  permitted  to  stay  only 
throucrh  the  rest  of  the  term,  and  then  to  resume  his 
old  and  cherished  pursuit  as  a  laborer  upon  some  farm, 
where  he  could  at  least  reheve  his  father  of  expense, 
and  support  himself  "You  know,"  he  says,  "  that  it 
has  long  been  my  wish  to  be  a  farmer,  and  it  has  not  in 
the  least  abated."  Meanwhile,  since,  at  the  best,  this 
was  a  measure  of  economy  which  could  not  be  put 
into  execution  for  several  weeks,  he  immediately  made 
arrangements  for  cutting  down  his  already  moderate 
expenses.  He  was  rooming  out  of  the  colleges,  as  most 
Freshmen  did  who  preferred  the  increased  cost  to  the 
perils  and  discomforts  of  life  in  the  buildings.  Almost 
before  he  could  get  an  answer  to  his  proposition,  he 
had  vacated  his  rooms  and  gone  into  West  College, 
taking  a  great  barn-like  room  at  the  top  of  the  build- 
ing ;  besides,  he  applied  for  and  obtained  the  position 
of  janitor  to  the  recitation-room,  —  a  position  taken  by 
one  of  the  poorest  of  each  class,  requiring  most  vexa- 
tious attention,  and  standing  him  in  some  trivial  sum  or 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  31 

freedom  from  certain  college  taxes.  All  this  was  un- 
necessary :  it  was  not  recommended  by  his  father ;  but 
it  was  just  what  he  could  not  help  doing.  He  did  not 
trouble  himself  to  reason  much  about  it ;  he  only  con- 
sidered that  there  must  be  retrenchment  in  the  house- 
hold, and  that  it  was  his  business  to  cut  down  his  own 
expenses  immediately  to  the  very  lowest  point. 

This  occasion,  so  characteristically  met,  was  impor- 
tant for  the  impulse  which  it  gave  to  his  thought.  At 
the  bottom  of  his  letter  home  concerning  the  failure,  he 
writes  with  a  Freshman's  ardor  and  confidence  ;  "  I  am 
studying  hard  for  the  first  place."  He  was  aware  of 
the  little  likelihood  there  was  that  his  father  would 
listen  to  his  proposal,  though  he  had  made  it  in  good 
faith  ;  since  he  must  stay,  he  applied  himself  with  zeal  to 
the  task  of  making  as  much  of  college  as  he  could.  He 
gave  as  an  object  of  study  the  one  which  was  promi- 
nent in  college,  not  that  he  cared  particularly  for  it, 
but  because  he  could  not  easily  give  a  proper  reason. 
Really  he  had  an  excellent  reason,  namely,  that  it  was 
his  business  just  now  to  study  hard :  but  then  he  had 
hardly  begun  to  state  to  himself  reasons  for  doing  any- 
thing. He  did  things  for  reasons,  but  not  much  for 
stated  reasons. 

His  usual  life  went  on  much  as  ever.  The  present 
and  the  visible  were  too  engrossing  with  him  to  admit 
of  much  reflection,  in  his  untutored  mind,  on  the  im- 
comprehended  difficulties  of  his  father's  position,  or 
much  anticipation  as  to  what  he  himself  meant  to  do. 
He  continued  to  set  his  traps  and  to  write  home  direc- 
tions about  his  old  pets  and  small  stock,  entering  with 
animation  into  all  measures  talked  of  at  home.  His 
letters    contained   messages   to    every    soul    about   the 


32  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

house.  This  college-life  was  not  near  so  mucli  to  him 
as  his  home  ;  it  was  more  remote  from  his  sympathy, 
and  he  would  sit  for  hours  with  some  friend,  telling  of 
his  little  world  with  the  most  simple  enthusiasm.  His 
studies  gave  him  no  great  trouble,  since  they  were 
chiefly  in  the  classics,  where  he  was  best  qualified  and 
where  the  majority  of  the  class  were  most  deficient. 
Mathematics  caused  him  to  groan  inwardly,  but  he 
found  most  delight  in  his  manifold  out-door  occupa- 
tions ;  then  his  labors  in  the  recitation-room  kept  him 
busy.  He  was  up  early  on  the  cold  mornings,  sweep- 
ing the  room,  kindling  the  fire,  and  lighting  the  lamps 
for  the  barbarous  dawn  recitations.  It  was  Freshman 
recitation-room,  and  he  found  a  horrible  state  of  things 
in  it  on  some  days.  His  class  will  recollect  the  scene 
one  afternoon  in  February,  when,  in  the  middle  of  the 
recitation,  a  loo;  of  wood,  fluncr  through  the  window  of 
the  adjoining  wood-closet,  burst  the  door  open,  and  let 
into  the  room  a  bewildered  sheep,  which  David,  as 
janitor,  proceeded  to  eject  by  catching  his  hind-legs 
and  walking  him  out  wheelbarrow-fashion. 

It  was  on  his  return  to  college,  at  the  close  of  the 
long  winter  vacation,  that  the  thought  which  had  been 
working  in  his  mind  took  a  more  fixed  character,  and 
he  began  to  feel  within  himself  the  stirrino-  of  con- 
science,  demanding  that  he  should  decide  the  question 
of  personal  religious  duty.  Ever  since  his  connection 
with  the  college,  in  accordance  with  his  home  educa- 
tion, he  had  been  a  frequent  attendant  upon  the  op- 
tional as  well  as  upon  the  prescribed  religious  services 
of  the  college.  He  had  an  unquestioning  conviction 
of  the  truth  of  religious  doctrines,  as  set  forth  in  the 
Orthodox  creed,  without  ever  making  anv  systematic 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  33 

inquiry.  Such  an  inquiry  would  have  been  impossible 
to  his  unthinking  mind  ;  and  now,  when  awakened  to 
thought,  his  difficulty  was  not  in  the  way  of  intellectual 
belief.  The  formulas  of  Orthodox  theology,  compass- 
ing the  way  of  salvation,  were  familiar  to  him,  and  the 
common  religious  talk  and  appeals  in  the  prayer-meet- 
ing were  based  upon  an  acceptation  of  the  doctrines  of 
evangelical  belief.  The  question  with  him,  free  from 
all  difficulty  in  theology,  was  one  of  simple  submission 
to  the  Divine  will.  He  struggled  long  in  darkness, 
seeming  to  himself  ready  to  submit,  and  yet,  through 
his  meagre  power  of  introspection,  unable  apparently  to 
discover  the  obstacle  which  stood  between  his  desire 
and  its  falfilment.  There  was  a  conscientious  perse- 
verance and  honesty  in  his  character,  which  refused  to 
be  content  with  anything  short  of  full  satisfaction  on 
this  point ;  nor  was  it  possible  that  a  will  so  stubborn 
and  determined  as  his  should  accept,  without  severe 
struggle,  the  entire  self-renunciation  required  of  it. 
Thus  the  period  of  his  contest  extended  over  several 
weeks.  His  room-mate,  for  he  had  taken  one  at  the 
beginning  of  the  term,  speaking  of  this  time,  says : 
"  I  had  noticed  there  was  something  serious  on  his 
mind,  and  my  interest  was  excited  by  the  singular  cir- 
cumstance of  his  repeating  the  same  verse  for  several 
days  in  the  noon  meeting :  '  So  foolish  was  I  and  igno- 
rant. I  was  as  a  beast  before  thee.'  (Ps.  Ixxiii.  22.) 
I  have  no  remembrance  of  dates  ;  but  one  day  he  came 
into  the  room,  threw  himself  on  the  floor,  and  began  to 
weep  and  moan  and  roll  about,  seemingly  in  great 
agony.  I  went  to  him  and  talked  for  a  while,  when  he 
became  calmer.  It  was  that  night,  I  think,  that  the 
struggle  was  over." 


34  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

The  difficulty  which  lay  in  the  way  of  his  peace,  and 
which  for  a  while  he  seemed  not  to  recognize  in  thought, 
became  plain  when  it  was  stated  to  him  by  another. 
One  cherished  purpose  stood  as  the  representative  of 
self,  endeavoring  to  maintain  a  supremacy.  A  few 
years  afterward  he  wrote  as  follows  to  Professor  Hop- 
kins :  "  I  well  remember  the  day  on  which  in  anxiety 
of  mind  I  called  upon  you,  not  knowing  why  I  did  not 
find  peace  in  believing.  You  asked  me  if  I  had  no 
cherished  purpose  which  stood  in  the  way.  That  ques- 
tion at  once  let  in  a  flood  of  light,  and  was  the  most 
weighty  question  which  I  ever  was  called  upon  to  an- 
swer. I  saw  then  that  the  alternative  was  before  me, 
—  to  be  a  farmer  and  a  sinner,  or  a  missionarj*  and  a 
Christian.  My  boyish  inclination  for  a  farmer's  life 
appeared  in  its  right  light,  and  I  was  helped,  I  believe, 
to  give  it  up  and  to  give  myself  to  Christ  and  his 
Church." 

This  then  was  the  crucial  test.  I  am  confident  that 
he  had  never  failed  to  regard  the  question  of  becoming 
a  Christian  and  that  of  becoming  a  missionary  as  insep- 
arably connected  for  him  ;  his  decision  of  the  latter  was 
a  test  of  sincerity  in  deciding  the  former.  So  also  he 
stated  it  to  the  ecclesiastical  council  which  ordained 
him.  Every  way  the  act  was  characteristic.  He  had 
early  and  always  associated  the  missionary  with  the 
most  advanced  stage  of  Christian  profession.  He  could 
not  be  half-way  in  anything  he  undertook,  and  in  as- 
suming the  vows  of  a  Christian,  his  whole  nature  hur- 
ried him  on  to  what  he  regarded  as  the  most  complete 
fulfilment  of  those  vows.  His  being,  like  the  cloud 
which 

"  — moveth  all  together,  if  it  move  at  all," 


DAVID  COIT   SCUDDER.  35 

carried  him  undoubting  and  with  whole-heartedness  into 
the  missionary  idea.  Henceforth  he  had  this  ruling 
purpose,  and  eight  years  afterward  he  could  say,  in  the 
letter  to  Professor  Hopkins  just  now  quoted :  "  Insep- 
arable as  these  two  acts  appeared  then,  they  have  been 
no  less  so  in  my  feelings  since  that  day.  I  have  never 
made  any  other  formal  committal  of  myself  to  the 
work,  and  have  never  seriously  wavered  in  my  decis- 
ion. Having  this  definite  end  before  me  so  constantly 
has  been  of  immense  service  to  me  as  a  Christian,  and 
I  thank  God  for  it." 

Nor  was  there  absent  the  influence  of  personal  asso- 
ciation always  strongly  moving  him.  From  the  day 
when  old  Doctor  Scudder  laid  his  hand  on  his  head  and 
claimed  him  for  the  India  Mission,  he  had  felt  the 
touch,  and  when  now  he  had  decided,  without  recal, 
to  enter  the  missionary  field,  it  would  have  been  almost 
as  impossible  to  choose  any  other  country  than  India, 
as  to  have  chosen  any  other  work  than  the  missionary. 
Just  before  leaving  college,  he  makes  the  brief  entry 
in  his  journal,  "  Heard  of  Doctor  Scudder's  death  at 
Cape  of  Good  Hope.  I  can  never  have  my  desire 
gratified  of  seeing  him  in  India ;  "  and  eleven  years 
afterward,  when  he  had  closed  his  short  career  in  that 
distant  land,  a  brother-missionary,  arranging  his  library 
for  transmission  to  America,  found  a  little  paper-cov- 
ered book  well  worn  by  use,  but  tenderly  preserved. 
It  bore  the  title,  "  Letters  to  Sabbath  School  Children, 
by  Rev.  John  Scudder,  M.  D.,  Missionary  at  Madras," 
and  written  broadly  across  the  fly-leaf,  "  Master  David 
Scudder,  from  his  affectionate  friend,  J.  Scudder,  New 
York,  Aug.  8, 1843."  This,  with  one  or  two  pale  letters, 
the  young  missionary  had  treasured  since  childhood ; 


36  LIFE  AND   LETTERS   OF 

they  were  to  him  dear  signs  of  the  affection  of  his  re- 
vered predecessor,  and  he  carried  them  to  the  shores 
where  he  had  hoped  to  be  welcomed  by  him.  It  was  not 
thus  to  be  ;  yet  surely  our  faith  may  warrant  the  imagi- 
nation which  pictures,  when  the  two  did  meet,  a  holier 
greeting  than  Madras  beach  would  have  witnessed. 

The  period  of  his  conversion  was  every  way  the 
most  important  epoch  of  his  life,  for  it  was  the  dividing 
point  between  the  old,  impulsive,  unthinking  life,  with 
no  aim  beyond  the  nearest  object,  and  the  new  life  of 
thought,  of  loyalty  to  an  idea,  —  a  life  having  a  purpose 
comprehensive  enough  to  bind  together  all  his  manifold 
interests,  and  so  far-reaching  as  never  to  fail  him.  No 
sooner  had  he  got  the  clue  to  his  existence  than  he  fol- 
lowed it.  A  great  impulse  was  given  to  his  intellectual 
faculties.  The  awakenino;  which  his  thouo-ht  had  under- 
gone  and  which  had  begun  to  reveal  to  him  something 
of  himself,  was  aided  by  a  powerful  agent  in  the  sense 
of  its  being  his  duty  to  think.  His  letters,  both  before 
this  and  for  some  time  to  come,  are  faithful  exponents 
of  the  outward  life  which  he  habitually  led ;  conse- 
quently they  have  very  little  other  worth,  being  occu- 
pied chiefl}^  with  the  commonplace  news  of  college. 
A  single  example  will  stand  for  all,  and  I  select  one  in 
which  he  communicates  to  his  parents  the  fact  of  his 
conversion,  —  it  is  so  transparent  in  its  display  of  his 
character.  The  intelligence  in  the  latter  part  is  of 
course  wholly  unimportant  in  itself;  the  significance  is 
in  the  naturalness  with  which  he  passed  from  religion 
to  rabbit-traps,  and  back  to  religion  again :  — 

WiLLiAMSTOWN,  Feb.  21, 1852. 
My  dear  Father  and  Mother  :  —  I  have  just  re- 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  37 

turned  with  chum  from  the  lecture  by  Professor  Hop- 
kins. The  President  is  not  very  well,  so  he  took  his 
place.  But  I  attended  to  him  with  far  different  feel- 
ings from  what  I  have  been  accustomed  to,  for,  dear 
parents,  I  hope  that  I  am  a  Christian.  Yes,  I  hope 
that  I  have  made  my  peace  with  God.  I  can  hardly 
realize  it.  It  has  always  seemed  so  far  off.  But  how 
simple  a  thino;  it  is.  The  great  trouble  with  me  was, 
I  think,  unwillingness  to  give  the  world  up.  I  went  to 
Professor  Hopkins's  house  the  other  day  to  talk  with 
him.  I  came  home  and  talked  with  chum  some  time, 
and  then  consecrated  myself  to  God.  I  felt  willino-  to 
say,  '  Lord,  what  wilt  Thou  have  me  to  do  ? '  I  felt 
at  peace  after  that.  It  is  nearly  time  to  go  to  the  office, 
so  I  must  close  with  some  things  of  great  importance 
to  us.  First.  The  Gymnasium  is  burnt  down  to  the 
ground.  ^I  will  tell  you  more  about  it  in  a  letter  soon 
to  be  written.  I  want  to  know  how  much  I  may  put 
down  my  name  for,  to  go  toward  erecting  a  new  one. 
A  subscription  is  being  taken  up.  Our  class  have  sub- 
scribed one  hundred  and  twenty  dollars,  so  far ;  ten 
dollars  apiece  for  twelve  students.  Can  I  subscribe? 
It  is  not  to  be  paid  till  next  tei-m.  Second.  (My  chum 
has  had  a  very  bad  stye  on  his  eye.)  That  last  was 
written  by  my  chum's  gold  pen.  I  made  a  trap  to 
catch  rabbits  with  this  afternoon.  They  are  very  plenty. 
I  saw  three  partridges  to-day.  But  I  must  close.  With 
much  love  to  all,  I  remain  your  affectionate  son  in 
Christ,  David. 

His  letters,  and  indeed  all  kinds  of  writing,  were  for 
a  long  time  extremely  incomplete  expressions  of  his 
character.     He  was  a  great  deal  more  than  he  could 


38  LIFE  AND   LETTERS   OF 

write  down  of  himself,  or  than  one  could  discover  through 
his  writing  of  any  matters.  It  was  both  interesting  and 
amusino-  to  watch  the  first  efforts  which  he  made  to 
train  his  reflective  powers;  the  necessity  of  their  use 
had  become  apparent  along  with  a  sense  of  his  defi- 
ciency, and  the  moral  duty  of  using  them  was  an  irre- 
sistible plea.  He  felt  keenly  the  inability  to  write  out 
his  thought,  which,  of  course,  was  chiefly  the  result  of 
an  inability  to  think ;  so  he  set  himself  painfully,  but 
most  doggedly  to  work,  mastering  the  difficulty.  He 
had  a  composition  to  write  as  a  college  exercise,  and 
long  before  the  dreaded  day  came  he  began  his  task. 
One  of  his  friends,  I  know  not  with  what  evil  intent, 
supplied  him  with  the  subject  —  "  Independence  must 
have  limits.'*  David  addressed  himself  to  the  task,  first, 
of  discovering  the  meaning  of  this  oracular  saying,  and 
then  of  proving  the  assertion  so  positively  made.  Day 
after  day  did  he  turn  the  apophthegm  over  in  his  mind  ; 
with  a  ludicrous  persistence  he  battered  it  with  all  his 
mental  force ;  at  all  manner  of  odd  moments,  when  his 
attention  was  detached  from  some  more  immediate  mat- 
ter, he  would  return  to  this,  and  assert  stoutly  to  him- 
self—  "Independence  must  have  limits;"  then  he 
would  ask  himself,  why  it  must  have  limits  and  what 
limits,  and  where  were  any  instances  of  limited  and 
unlimited  independence.  He  had  no  sort  of  shame  in 
his  helplessness,  but  with  a  comical  bewilderment  would 
apply  to  his  friends,  startling  them  with  the  assertion, 
and  waiting  to  see  what  effect  it  had  on  them  ;  whether 
they  might  not  even  deny  the  fact,  and  so  bring  on  a 
discussion  which  would  throw  light  upon  the  matter. 
A  vacation  intervened,  and  I  remember  with  what 
gravity  and  apparent  pride   at  possessing  a  piece  of 


DAVID   COIT   SCUDDER.  39 

wisdom  of  great  value,  he  took  an  early  opportunity  to 
deliver  the  oracle  to  the  younger  members  of  the  family, 
who,  he  was  glad  to  see,  felt  the  full  mystery  of  the 
saying.  "  Dear  chum,"  he  writes  at  this  time,  "  I  have 
written  ten  lines  of  my  composition  '  Independence 
must  have  limits.' "  Somehow  or  other  he  managed, 
at  last,  to  defend  the  thesis,  but  it  was  severe  work  for 
him. 

In  his  new  and  honest  desire  for  improvement  he 
was  the  victim,  like  many  before  and  since,  to  the  sys- 
tems recommended  by  well-meaning,  but  injudicious 
advisers.  Method  he  found  everywhere  inculcated  as 
the  prime  condition  of  effective  mental  labor.  Of 
course  he  read  many  "  Letters  to  a  Young  Student,"  and 
of  course  immediately,  after  the  pattern  of  such  books, 
made  piecemeal  of  a  day  already  quite  minutely  broken 
up  by  the  regularly  recurring  college  exercises.  The 
effects  of  this  systematic  dosing  of  himself  were  so  nat- 
ural that  I  quote  a  part  of  a  letter  in  which  he  uncon- 
sciously betrays  his  sense  of  the  artificiality  of  the  plan. 

[to  his  mother.] 

It  is  now  my  time,  dear  mother,  that  I  devote  to 
writing,  or  the  improvement  of  my  intellectual  facul- 
ties, and  I  intend  to  devote  it  to  the  former   at   this 

time.     lent  me  a   book,  entitled   "  Letters   to  a 

Young  Student,"  the  author  of  which  I  do  not  know 
about,  but  the  recommendation  of  which  is  by  N. 
Lord,  of  Dartmouth  College.  It  is  a  very  instructive 
book,  and  I  trust  that  I  have  already  gained  some  good 
from  it.  Advised  by  it,  I  yesterday  made  out  a  sched- 
ule of  the  manner  in  which  I  propose  to  spend  the 
day.    I  allotted  to  each  study  a  particular  time,  and  that 


40  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

part  of  the  day  not  taken  up  in  studying,  I  assigned  to 
reading,  writing,  or  some  other  intellectual  pursuit.  I 
have  just  finished  my  Latin,  and  have  now  an  opportu- 
nity to  answer  your  nice  long  letter.  I  would  say,  in 
the  first  place,  that  you  must  not  always  expect  a  letter 
from  me  Wednesday,  since  I  cannot  promise  to  write 
invariably  on  Monday.  Nevertheless,  I  shall  always 
endeavor  to  write  home  either  on  Monday  or  Tuesday. 
I  have  been  reading  the  allegory  of  Cheever,  called 
"  The  Two  Ways  and  the  Two  Ends."  It  is  well  worth 
the  reading.  It  contains  very  many  beautiful  thoughts 
and  sentiments,  some  of  which  I  purpose  to  write  down 
in  a  book,  according  to  another  suggestion  of  that  book. 
Somehow  or  other  I  feel  just  like  an  old  man ;  at  least 
I  hope  that  I  shall  be  more  of  a  man  than  hitherto. 

As  his  desire  for  improvement  had  mainly  a  religious 
basis,  so  it  was  to  religion  that  he  naturally  looked  for 
aid,  and  in  religious  exercises  that  he  felt  his  deficiency 
most.  Entering  the  number  of  Christians,  he  found 
them  engaged  in  mental  processes  unfamiliar  to  him. 
He  heard  them  describe  their  spiritual  conflicts,  and 
discovered  in  many  a  rigorous  self-examination,  which 
aimed  at  a  daily  inspection  of  such  thoughts  and  feel- 
ings as  could  be  marshalled  by  memory.  He  also  was 
fighting  daily  to  overcome  the  evil  nature  within  him, 
but  he  was  conscious  of  an  almost  total  inability  to  get 
at  and  express  the  nature  of  his  spiritual  difiicuhies,  or 
to  make  any  thorough  inquiry  into  the  causes  of  his 
irregular  emotions.  The  difficulties  he  had  and  the 
irregular  emotions,  but,  wanting  the  power  to  put  into 
correct  and  natural  language  all  this  experience,  he 
adopted  the  current  phraseology  with  the  most  honest 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  41 

purpose,  while  to  common  ears  his  use  of  it  bore  an 
artificial  sound.  His  letters  show  this  most  markedly, 
for  it  was  chiefly  through  religious  topics  that  his  pen 
was  first  diverted  from  its  ordinary  occupation  of  chron- 
iclinor  the  events  in  his  small  colleo;e-world.  There  is 
a  strained  character  to  the  religious  portion  of  his  let- 
ters at  this  period,  not  wholly  lost  for  some  time  after- 
ward, quite  at  variance  with  his  customary  naturalness 
when  speaking  of  common  matters  ;  yet  the  fault  is  not 
in  intention,  but  in  an  inability  adequately  to  interpret 
his  thouoht  and  emotion.  Throuo;h  all  the  conven- 
tional  language,  one  must  discern  the  glowing  nature 
of  the  young  Christian,  longing  after  perfection,  making 
constant  discoverv  of  his  own  failinors,  and  ardent  with 
love  for  the  souls  of  those  who  had  not  yet  shared  his 
gift,  leading  him  to  plead  with  some  friend  in  language 
of  unquestioned  earnestness,  however  forced  might  seem 
its  terms. 

I  think  this  is  a  just  explanation  of  a  phase  of  relig- 
ious life  often  displayed  in  young  converts.  With 
those  who  never  grow  in  mind  beyond  this  period,  such 
phraseology  becomes  the  prevailing  order  of  the  expo- 
sition of  their  faith ;  they  continue  to  exhort  and  pray 
in  the  same  terms  as  at  first,  exaggerating  the  tone  of 
their  address,  as  it  loses  force  by  repetition,  until  una- 
wares they  reach  a  habit  of  speaking  upon  religious 
topics,  which  shocks  and  repels  men  by  its  apparent 
insincere  use  of  the  most  awful  terms.  They  are  not 
themselves,  nor  are  those  like  them,  aware  of  the  wide 
distance  which  exists  between  the  primal  meaning  of 
the  Scripture  phrases  which  they  employ,  and  that 
which  their  short  intellect  after  dull  iteration  gives  to 
them.     Like  many  others,  my  brother  outgrew   this 


42  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

unformed  state,  and  whilst  he  preserved  his  warm  feel- 
ings and  tender  soUcitude  for  others,  he  reached  also 
a  juster  understanding  of  the  relation  between  thought 
and  language,  learning  to  express  his  ideas  in  a  manner 
more  natural  and  simple  and  thus  more  effective. 

But  his  intellectual  inexperience  betrayed  him  into 
graver  errors  than  a  temporary  resort  to  conventional 
phrases  for  the  expression  of  his  poorly- worded  thoughts. 
With  the  sensitiveness  of  his  frank  nature,  made  more 
tender  by  his  new  knowledge,  he  was  peculiarly  open 
to  influence  from  without ;  when  he  heard  his  fellows 
relating  experience  in  religious  matters  quite  out  of 
the  reach  of  his  mind,  he  reproached  himself  for  the 
absence  of  what  was  impossible  to  him ;  his  use  of 
common  forms  of  religious  sentiment  to  cover  his  defi- 
ciency  of  expression,  if  they  corresponded  to  no  dis- 
tinct experience  within  himself,  served  to  harass  him, 
since  he  felt  that  he  ought  in  sincerity  to  have  the  feel- 
ings which  a  strict  interpretation  of  his  language  would 
presume.  Perhaps  also  he  came  into  contact  with  men 
inclined  to  morbidness  by  temperament  or  education ; 
he  also  began  to  watch  the  thermometer  of  his  emo- 
tional nature,  with  fear  lest  he  should  not  maintain  that 
warmth  of  feeling  which  seemed  to  him  so  surely  in- 
dicative of  high  spiritual  attainment.  He  always  had 
been  subject  to  waywardness ;  his  mercurial  temper 
suffered  from  all  the  variations  of  the  atmosphere  in 
which  he  lived ;  now  his  moods  were  heightened  and 
deepened  by  an  infusion  of  religious  feeling.  To  what 
was  a  constitutional  fitfulness  he  gave  a  religious  char- 
acter; if  he  were  depressed  he  accepted  the  mood  as 
necessary  to  one  so  aware  of  his  spiritual  deformity, 
and  grew  to  have  a  sort  of  pride  at  what  he  fancied  an 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  43 

excessive  degree  of  self-abasement ;  if  his  animal  na- 
ture chanced  to  be  exuberant,  he  connected  with  it  his 
religious  aspirations,  and  gave  thanks  for  a  return  to 
the  early  glow  of  Christian  purpose.  Bewildered  by 
the  vagrancy  of  his  sensational  nature,  and  by  the  pain- 
ful incompleteness  of  his  thinking  powers,  he  stumbled 
toward  the  light,  and  while  he  did  at  last  receive  the 
reward  of  those  that  seek,  he  retained  for  a  long  while 
the  signs  of  this  disordered  period. 

There  was  however  so  simple  a  directness  in  his 
nature,  that,  despite  these  evil  tendencies  to  wdiich  his 
untutored  mind  exposed  him,  he  did  make  decided 
progress  in  Christian  life,  obeying  those  instinctive  calls 
of  duty  which  he  could  not  miss  understanding,  and 
through  this  obedience  gaining  the  power  to  compre- 
hend those  demands  upon  him  which  were  more  ab- 
struse. Nor  covild  his  passionate  attachment  to  free 
life  in  the  open  air  fail  to  correct  a  good  many  mistakes 
which  he  might  make  over  his  air-tight  stove.  He 
struggled  manfully  with  the  tyranny  which  his  nature 
had  set  up  over  him ;  with  the  imperious  will,  venting 
itself  in  caprice  ;  with  the  strong  prejudices  which  seized 
him  so  readily,  and  with  all  the  turbulent  force  of  his 
passions ;  and  if  he  wasted  some  of  his  blows  on  imag- 
inary tyrants,  the  largest  share  went  to  real  ones.  The 
strugole  was  carried  on  with  intermittent  force  even 
to  the  end  of  life,  but  his  repeated  victories  over  evil 
had  rendered  it  so  feeble  that  even  in  his  youth  he  had 
received  his  reward  in  a  spirit  docile,  calm  and  equable. 

Coupled  with  this  self-discipline,  in  its  influence 
upon  his  character,  was  the  zeal  with  which  he  tried 
to  win  others  to  the  peace  which  he  had  obtained.  As 
happens  in  the  case  of  most  young  converts,  he  sealed 


44  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

the  confession  of  his  faith  with  an  immediate  endeavor 
after  the  spiritual  good  of  others.  A  revival  of  relig- 
ion began  in  college  simultaneously  with  his  own  con- 
version, and  there  was  great  activity  among  the  Christian 
students.  David's  friends  were  in  the  habit  of  meeting 
together  for  prayer  and  talk,  in  his  room  in  West  Col- 
lege ;  and  David,  impetuous  yet  timid,  would  resolutely 
shut  down  the  disagreeable  sensations  in  his  mind,  go 
into  his  neighbors'  rooms,  choosing  those  least  famihar 
with  such  gatherings,  and  deliver  an  invitation  to  his 
meeting  as  frankly  and  innocently  as  if  to  an  oyster 
supper.  His  letters  contain  disclosures  of  his  interest  in 
his  classmates,  and  in  those  still  more  dear  to  him.  He 
could  not,  perhaps,  answer  with  wise  care  the  objec- 
tions which  hesitating  minds  proposed,  but  he  could 
meet  them  more  effectively  by  his  unassumed  earnest- 
ness, and  by  the  sincerity  of  his  faith  ;  pleading  person- 
ally with  those  whom  he  loved,  and  praying  for  them 
with  ardent  desire,  he  brought  to  bear  upon  them  after 
all  a  more  powerful  and  lively  influence,  it  may  be, 
than  mere  judicious  counsel  would  have  exerted,  since 
in  a  large  number  of  instances  the  objections  which 
the  intellect  opposes  are  only  the  hiding-place  of  an 
unwilling  heart,  which  is  drawn  from  its  refuge  by  the 
affectionate  solicitations  of  a  kindred  spirit.  Not  that 
David's  zeal  was  without  knowledge,  but  that  its  force 
lay  in  its  contagious  fervor. 

I  have  dwelt  at  some  length  upon  this  epoch  in  my 
brother's  life,  and  its  immediate  results  in  his  character 
and  purpose,  because  it  is  so  prominent  as  the  beginning 
with  him  of  positive  growth.  He  did  not,  he  could  not 
suffer  any  violence  in  his  individuality  ;  but  while  before 
the  force  of  his  nature,  so  wide  in  its  range,  and  yet  so 


DAVID  COIT   SCUDDER.  45 

concentrated  in  all  its  movements,  had  thrown  itself 
into  the  purpose  of  the  moment,  so  that  his  progress 
was  blind  and  vagrant,  henceforth  this  same  force, 
intensified  by  being  hemmed  in,  was  set  steadily  in  one 
direction,  from  which  it  never  swerved.  He  still  gave 
himself  up  with  wonted  eagerness  to  an  undivided  care 
for  that  which  was  actually  before  him,  following  his 
active  impulses  which  called  him  in  so  many  different 
directions ;  but  tliese  momentary  purposes,  hitherto  his 
sole  guides,  now  became  subordinate  to  one  compre- 
hensive, ruling  purpose,  which  forbade  his  life  ever  to 
become  disjointed  or  capriciously  vagrant.  The  fulness 
of  his  nature,  supplying  him  with  so  many  and  such 
varied  objects  of  interest,  was  not  long  held  in  by  false 
or  narrow  opinions  respecting  duty ;  it  overrode  the 
captious  criticisms  of  a  disordered  conscience.  He 
kept  his  naturalness,  and  that,  in  turn,  kept  him. 

He  continued  to  make  daily  excursions  to  his  rabbit- 
traps,  and  to  coast,  while  snow  lasted,  down  the  long 
hills ;  he  wrote  long,  loose,  hap-hazard  letters,  mingling 
incidents  of  colleoje-life  with  earnest  regrets  of  his  own 
coldness  of  heart,  affectionate  expostulations,  and  eager 
inquiries  after  the  small  tribes  of  the  barn-yard.  In 
college  he  was  known  for  his  unaffected  heartiness ;  he 
was  singular  enough  to  excite  universal  interest.  It  did 
men  good  to  hear  his  peculiar  laugh,  so  clear  and  above 
suspicion ;  to  be  pounced  upon,  as  they  were  walking 
gravely  to  prayers,  by  this  frolicking  boy,  whose  exuber- 
ance of  spirits  seemed  to  run  over  into  oddness.  No 
one  could  tell  what  he  would  do  next.  If  others  were 
walking  soberly,  he  was  most  likely  running  backward 
and  displaying  his  antics.  As  in  his  school-days,  he 
was  perpetually  falling  into  half-serious  quarrels  which 


46  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

never  weakened  the  lightest  friendship  ;  nothing  seemed 
to  delight  him  more  than  to  confound  some  one  by  the 
appearance  of  a  sudden  revulsion  of  feeling.  He  had 
an  incorrigible  propensity  for  making  people  stare,  and 
was  led  by  it  into  all  sorts  of  harmless  jests.  His  room- 
mate relates  an  example  :  — 

"  We  had  been  together  but  a  few  days,  when  an 
incident  occurred  which  w^as  characteristic  of  him  in 
his  earlier  college-days,  and,  from  what  David  told  me, 
I  should  infer  of  his  boyhood  also.  We  were  carrying 
up  wood,  and  both  of  us  in  very  lively  mood,  when 
suddenly  he  broke  out  into  what  seemed  to  me  a  most 
violent  passion.  He  seemed  uncontrollably  vexed  with 
me,  and  I  thought  he  was  about  to  tear  himself  in 
pieces.  After  he  saw  I  was  sufficiently  astonished  and 
alarmed,  which  was  not  a  little,  he  burst  out  into  a  loud 
laugh.  Nothing  occurred  equalling  this  trick  in  vio- 
lence, but  i|iost  of  his  succeeding  odd  fits  were  more  a 
reality." 

Pleasant  as  residence  at  college  was,  there  always 
remained  the  keener  deliojht  of  oroino;  home  in  vacation. 
The  ushering  in  of  the  holidays  was  attended  by  so  much 
circumstance  that  an  excitable  mind  was  kept  in  con- 
stant motion.  Examinations  and  exhibitions  closed  the 
last  days  of  the  term.  Lucky  students,  who  had  con- 
trived to  anticipate  the  breaking-up,  went  off  singly  or 
in  small  squads,  envied  by  the  rest,  like  the  raven  from 
the  ark ;  then  the  bustle  of  getting  in  readiness,  and 
finally  the  morning  of  departure,  when  there  was  some 
anxiety  lest  the  stout  stage -driver  should  not  have 
coaches  enough  for  all.  It  was  a  picturesque  sight 
when  the  college  broke  up  at  the  end  of  the  spring  or 
summer  term.    The  train  from  North  Adams,  the  near- 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  47 

est  railway  station,  —  these  were  days  when  the  Troy 
and  Greenfield  Railroad  was  only  talked  of,  —  started 
at  a  very  early  hour,  in  order  to  connect  with  the 
trains  on  the  Western  Road,  at  Pittsfield.  This  was 
the  usual  mode  of  exit  from  the  town,  thougli  slow 
stages  did  crawl  west,  north,  and  south,  if  any  chose  to 
use  them.  To  take  this  train  at  North  Adams,  the 
stage-coaches  had  to  leave  Williamstown  at  a  still  ear- 
lier hour,  and  at  the  end  of  the  term  a  margin  was 
allowed  for  the  inevitable  confusion  and  delay  attending 
such  an  hegira.  Thus  long  before  the  sun  rose,  and 
while  the  dawn  showed  only  the  coldest  light,  one  could 
see,  up  and  down  the  street  that  ran  through  the  town, 
little  piles  of  trunks  surrounded  or  surmounted  by 
sleepy  students.  The  stages  would  come  slowly  along, 
zigzagging  to  pick  up  one  load  after  another  on  either 
side  of  the  way,  the  driver  pounding  at  the  door  of 
some  house  where  he  had  been  ordered  to  stop,  but  where 
no  trunk  was  to  be  seen,  and  where,  at  the  last  moment, 
the  half-clad  student  would  tumble  out,  just  in  time 
but  very  cross.  The  students  on  the  last  hill  by  East 
College  would  be  waiting  impatiently  and  with  some 
anxiety  ;  then  the  clambering  up  and  in,  the  sometimes 
surly,  sometimes  brisk  salutations,  until  all  were  packed, 
and  the  stages  would  roll  down  the  hill  to  the  rendez- 
vous at  the  foot,  where  the  driver-in-chief,  stout  to  the 
fullest  requirements  of  stage-drivers,  would  go  about 
among  the  stages,  with  a  lantern  in  his  hand,  collecting 
the  passage-money.  It  was  a  sleepy  set  that  he  used 
to  carry  over,  but  those  who  had  their  wits  were  well 
repaid  for  the  loss  of  sleep  by  the  sight  of  the  kindling 
dawn,  though  the  sun  would  hardly  be  risen  by  the 
end  of  the  drive. 


48  LIFE  AND  LETTERS   OF 

David's  favorite  method  of  going  home  however  was 
to  give  no  warning  of  his  approach,  but  to  take  the 
noon-train,  reaching  the  house  in  Roxbury  after  mid- 
night, steal  through  the  cellar-door,  all  a-prickle  with 
excitement,  and  \\e  perdu  in  the  darkness  till  morning, 
when  he  would  come  up  into  the  house,  swear  secrecy 
on  any  servant  that  might  happen  in  sight,  hide  in 
the  closet,  in  a  fever  lest  somebody  should  open  the 
door  and  discover  Mm^  till  the  family  were  seated  at 
breakfast,  when  he  would  burst  forth  to  the  astonish- 
ment of  all,  and  his  own  extreme  delight. 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  49 


CHAPTER    III. 

COLLEGE-LIFE  —  LAST   THREE  YEARS. 

[1852-1855.] 

Sophomore  year  showed  David  in  much  the  same 
light  as  the  last  two  terms  of  Freshman  year ;  his  char- 
acter gained  in  stability  and  the  ruling  purpose  held, 
but  the  growth  of  his  mind  was  slow  and  marked  by 
few  noticeable  efforts.  Life  at  Williamstown  does  not 
present  many  salient  points  apart  from  those  already 
intimated.  The  town  is  so  insignificant  that  it  supplies 
very  little  to  interest  the  student.  His  return  to  col- 
lege, at  the  beginning  of  a  new  term,  brings  him  once 
more  into  the  routine  of  college-life,  and  so  he  contin- 
ues until  released  by  another  vacation.  Indeed,  every- 
thing about  the  return  to  Williams,  with  a  city  boy 
at  least,  seems  to  remind  him  of  his  separation  from 
the  busy  world.  He  arrives  at  the  railway  terminus, 
hilarious  over  the  comrades  he  has  met  on  the  way, 
and  mounts  again  the  rocking  stage-coach  which  trav- 
els the  road  winding  among  the  hills  into  the  secluded 
valley.  For  a  day  or  two  there  is  the  bustle  of  settling 
down,  and  then  all  goes  on  as  before.  He  passes  his 
days  very  much  alike,  varying  the  course  of  study  with 
sallies  in  the  literary  societies,  and  for  recreation  joins 
in  the  college-games,  or  tramps,  rides,  and  drives  about 
the  country.  Every  Wednesday  and  Saturday  after- 
noon one  may  find  students  scattered  over  the  neighbor- 
hood, seeking  the  Sand-Springs  which  bubble  up  a  mile 


50  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

or  two  from  the  town,  —  mineral  springs  of  the  same 
temperature  the  year  round,  and  confined  in  tanks  for 
bathers  ;  or  the  Weeping  Rocks  on  the  Pownal  Road  ; 
the  Natural  Bridge  near  Adams  ;  the  Cascade,  and  all 
the  many  curious  spots.  Most  however  walk  for  the 
pleasure  of  it  and  for  the  mountain-views ;  or,  likely 
enough,  are  incipient  naturalists,  with  tin  trunks  slung 
at  the  side  for  botanizing,  or  maybe  with  long  butterfly 
nets  which  they  flourish  about  in  a  frantic  fashion, 
while  sportsmen  with  guns  and  rods  disappear  in  the 
woods. 

Everything  in  fact  that  the  student  wants  for  occu- 
pation he  has  to  find  close  at  hand  ;  the  nearest  town 
amusements  are  twenty  miles  ofi^,  and  are  hardly  attrac- 
tive enough  then  to  draw  many.  Such  circumstances 
serve  to  crowd  the  students  too-ether,  and  fierce  little 
revolutions  are  excited,  so  that  generally  every  class 
has  suffered  in  its  course  some  violent  rupture.  The 
younger  members  of  college,  transported  from  a  society 
in  which  they  were  minors  to  one  where  they  enjoy  the 
rights  of  citizenship,  are  greatly  elated  with  their  new 
consequence,  and  prate  of  college  as  if  it  were  the  cen- 
tral sun  in  the  social  system. 

"  They  take  the  rustic  murmur  of  their  bourg 
For  the  great  wave  that  echoes  round  the  world." 

The  world  itself  comes  to  them  once  a  day  by  the  help 
of  the  stage-driver,  who  enters  at  night,  galloping  his 
horses  through  the  village,  and  blowing  his  horn  to  call 
the  students  to  the  little  post-office.  For  the  quiet 
pleasures  of  student-life  the  place  is  wonderfully  fit. 
In  those  days  there  was  a  barbarous  custom  of  holding 
morning  prayers  before  sunrise  sometimes ;  but  after 
all   there  was,  to  those  who  were  not  too  sleepy,  an 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  51 

exliilaration  in  this  early  summons  to  labor,  and  an 
inspiration  to  be  drawn  from  the  clear  morning  air. 
More  than  once  has  the  crowd  of  students,  filing  out 
of  the  chapel,  stood  still  instinctively  to  look  off  upon 
some  sunrise  when  the  eastern  sky  hung  in  gorgeous 
show  over  the  long  mountain. 

In  such  a  life  as  this  did  David  rejoice.  He  had  no 
restless  discontent  luring  him  away  to  forbidden  pleas- 
ures and  more  showy  entertainments  than  this  valley 
and  its  circle  of  hills  could  afford.  He  loved  his 
friends,  and  after  the  first,  each  new  year  brought  one 
of  his  brothers,  with  whom  he  could  share  his  pleasant 
life.  As  for  study,  his  new  convictions  of  duty  forbade 
him  ever  to  be  negligent,  but  his  immaturity  of  mind 
prevented  him  from  a  full  comprehension  of  the  studies 
in  the  college  course ;  so  that,  while  his  scholarship  was 
always  respectable  and  his  faithfulness  unimpeached,  he 
fell  just  below  the  "  honor  men"  of  the  class.  He  was 
a  quick  student  and  had  received  a  schooling  in  the 
classics  more  thorough  than  had  most  of  the  country 
boys  who  formed  the  majority  of  his  class.  One  ac- 
complishment especially  he  possessed,  upon  which  he 
plumed  himself  a  good  deal,  the  art  of  scanning  Latin 
and  Greek  verse  fluently  and  correctly.  His  native 
glibness  of  tongue  and  his  liking  for  rattle  conspired  to 
give  him  a  fondness  for  the  art ;  and  the  class  would 
listen  with  amusement,  sometimes  with  applause,  when 
as,  at  the  given  signal,  he  would  stand  in  his  place  and 
let  slip  from  his  tongue  the  Homeric  hexameters.  Math- 
ematics he  found  as  ever  a  sore  burden,  but  a  sense  of 
deficiency  led  him  to  make  an  effort  at  mastering  the 
difficulties  of  a  science  so  alien  from  his  mental  cast ; 
and  after  he  had  been  a  year  in  college,  he  took  lap 


52  LIFE  AND  LETTERS   OF 

arithmetic  with  a  fellow-student,  resolutely  going  back 
to  elementary  knowledge. 

Composition  and  all  logical  processes  were  still  for- 
midable, though  his  persistent  efforts  and  his  general 
growth  robbed  them  of  some  terror.  One  plan  for 
acquiring  a  habit  of  thought  was  certainly  straightfor- 
ward enough,  and  showed  him  in  earnest.  Getting  up 
a  half-hour  earlier  than  even  the  very  early  prayer- 
time  required,  it  was  his  custom  to  pace  the  hall  upon 
which  his  room  abutted  for  the  express  purpose  of 
thinking.  He  would  take  some  subject  which  he  was 
expecting  to  use  in  composition ;  I  believe  "  Indepen- 
dence must  have  limits  "  attended  some  of  his  pacings ; 
or  the  last  debate  in  the  society  hall,  or  some  topic 
which  had  been  suggested  in  conversation  or  reading, 
and  for  the  half-hour  conscientiously,  as  well  as  his 
poor,  untutored  head  would  allow,  discuss  the  matter 
with  himself,  arguing  back  and  forth  as  he  Avalked, — 
very  much  relieved,  no  doubt,  when  the  prayer-bell 
released  him. 

The  Qourse  of  study  for  Sophomore  year  presented 
little  difficulty  to  him  except  in  these  points,  and  he 
fell  under  the  influence  of  the  prevalent  mood  among 
Sophomores,  catching  a  little  of  the  indifferentism 
and  self-conceit  which  marks  that  stage  of  a  student's 
career.  He  even  so  far  fell  into  a  comfortable  and 
complacent  mood  as  to  congratulate  himself  upon  being 
popular,  and  to  take  some  pains  to  increase  the  good- 
will of  his  comrades.  His  letters  were  somewhat 
bombastic  and  wordy,  and  he  assumed  a  sort  of  conse- 
quential air  which  ill  became  him.  Yet  this  was  after 
all  exceptional ;  he  caught  the  way  from  others ;  his 
own  rightful  nature  asserted  itself  more  strongly,  and 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  53 

he  made  real  progress,  despite  occasional  fits  of  way- 
wardness. 

The  Greek  drama  to  be  read  this  year  was  the 
"Electra"  of  Sophocles.  The  class,  with  Sophomoric 
wisdom,  decided  that  the  drama  was  too  difficult  for 
their  unaided  intellects,  and  agreed,  as  a  body,  to  obtain 
translations,  —  by  which  piece  of  mutual  transgression 
the  weak  in  will  or  conscience  might  have  the  moral 
support  of  their  fellows.  David,  who,  from  his  resi- 
dence in  Boston,  was  constantly  made  an  agent  for  the 
class,  was  appointed  commissioner  to  procure  the  copies 
during  the  next  vacation.  The  only  translation  he 
could  find  was  one  included  in  a  complete  translation 
of  Sophocles,  pubUshed  in  Bohn's  "  Classical  Library." 
It  seemed  foolish  to  buy  the  whole  book  for  the  sake 
of  forty  odd  pages  ;  and  after  some  embarrassment  it 
occurred  to  him  to  get  the  "  Electra  "  printed  by  itself. 
He  had  a  reckless  disregard  of  common  sense  in  busi- 
ness affairs,  and  the  unlucky  measure  resulted  in  ob- 
taining a  quantity  of  unbound  "  Electras,"  which  cost 
more  than  if  he  had  bouo;ht  the  entire  volumes.  The 
class  had  a  good-natured  laugh  at  him  for  his  sim- 
plicity, but  relieved  his  mind  by  paying  the  bill. 
Meanwhile  his  room  was  full  of  the  translations,  lying 
about  everywhere  for  any  who  chose  to  call  and  obtain 
their  copies.  Nearly  every  one  used  the  help ;  and 
it  was  considered  wholly  justifiable,  first  because  the 
Greek  was  so  hard,  and  then  because  where  all  went 
astray,  the  responsibility  was  equally  distributed ;  but 
not  once  did  David  ever  glance  at  the  English  "  Elec- 
tra " ;  he  labored  through  the  unadulterated  Greek 
alone. 

He  began   this  year  to  read  outside  of  the  college 


54  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

studies,  with  no  very  clear  notion  of  what  he  wanted, 
following  the  suggestion  of  the  time;  but  even  then 
there  was  indication  of  a  preference  for  a  class  of  read- 
ing which  afterward  engaged  his  attention,  —  the  sug- 
gestive writings  of  essayists,  like  John  Foster,  which 
treat  of  morals  in  the  broader  relations,  and  yet  give  a 
practical  turn  to  the  results  reached.  There  was  a 
catholicity  about  David's  mind  which,  so  early  as  this, 
made  him  best  pleased  with  truth  when  presented  in  its 
sphericity,  while  he  was  so  practical  in  his  application 
of  truth  that  he  wished  the  sphere,  in  conclusion,  to 
become  a  wedge.  There  is  plenty  of  time  in  the  idle 
hours  of  Sophomore  year  for  reading,  and  many  stu- 
dents become  diverted  by  it  from  study,  persuading 
themselves  that  one  may  fairly  choose  between  discur- 
sive reading  and  close  study,  getting  about  equal  advan- 
tage from  either.  Sophomore  wisdom  fails  frequently 
when  tested  on  this  point.  David's  diversion  from 
study  by  reading  was  very  slight ;  he  kept  at  his  books 
as  much  as  seemed  necessary ;  the  by-hours  he  pre- 
ferred to  spend  on  excursions,  and  in  dabbling  in  Natural 
History.  There  was,  besides,  the  traditional  initiation 
of  Freshmen  in  the  trials  of  college-life  ;  but  where  this 
was  neither  illegal  nor  mean,  there  was  little  to  recom- 
mend it  to  any  one's  notice,  so  that  he  kept  clear  of 
such  foil}'.  Back  and  forth  between  Williamstown  and 
Boston,  he  kept  up  outwardly  an  uneventful  life,  unless 
there  be  excepted  the  long  excursions  which  he  planned 
so  profusely  whenever  summer  approached,  and  some  one 
of  which  he  carried  out  each  vacation,  —  taking  long 
pedestrian  tours  through  New  England,  or,  with  his  fa- 
ther, ever  desirous  of  anticipating  his  pleasures,  travel- 
ling into  Canada.     He  was  restless  with  schemes,  going 


DAVID  COIT   SCUDDER.  55 

just  as  far  as  the  tether  of  drcumstances  would  allow, 
and  taking  the  keenest  delight  in  the  fulfilment  of  his 
plans. 

When  he  returned  to  college,  at  the  beginning  of  his 
third  or  Junior  year,  he  found  a  necessity  for  most  reso- 
lute exertion.  The  classics  were  dropped  out  of  the 
course  of  study  after  a  portion  of  Demosthenes  and  of 
Tacitus  had  been  read;  the  prominent  study  of  the 
year  was  Physics  and  higher  Mathematics,  together 
with  an  increased  amount  of  composition  work.  His 
youth  and  unmethodical  habits  of  mind  made  all  this 
hard  for  him ;  besides,  the  Junior  dignity  is  rather 
ashamed  of  the  flippancy  and  laziness  of  Sophomore 
year,  so  that  he  entered  with  resolution  and  industry 
upon  his  tasks.  He  never  achieved  any  honor  in  the 
performance,  but  he  had  the  greater  gain  in  a  more 
capable  mind  and  readier  pen.  Surely  and  rapidly,  by 
vigorous  application  to  work,  he  was  adding  to  his  mental 
stature.  A  certain  extreme  confidence  in  other  men's 
opinions  gave  way  to  more  careful  judgment  and  self- 
reliance.  He  stood  higher,  took  in  a  wider  reach  in  all 
his  observations,  and  moved  unresistingly  forward  in 
his  proposed  career. 

As  his  mind  became  more  analytical,  he  understood 
himself  better,  and  could  detect  the  true  character  of 
his  unhealthy  moods.  The  corrective  measures  which 
formerly  he  had  instinctively  adopted,  were  now  em- 
ployed at  the  suggestion  also  of  his  thought.  The  mor- 
bidness clung  to  him,  since  by  his  injudicious,  ignorant 
yielding  it  had  become  a  habit,  only  to  be  worn  away 
by  constant  attrition  with  his  will,  and  by  the  severe 
letting  alone  which  he  learned  to  practise.  The  begin- 
ning of  this  unhealthy  state  of  mind  has  been  indicated  ; 


36  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

the  disease  was  at  its  height  during  this  year,  and  the 
following  extracts  from  two  letters,  written  in  immediate 
succession,  give  pretty  fully  the  form  which  his  self- 
torture  assumed.  A  frankness  is  used  which  we  should 
call  unmerciful  to  himself,  were  it  not  in  part  one  of  the 
very  symptoms  of  the  disease,  that  it  hides  itself  for 
a  time  only  to  pour  its  horrors  more  fully  into  the  most 
sympathetic  ear ;  some  momentary  relief  is  thus  gained, 
hut  such  a  confidence,  hy  its  outward  expression  of 
vague  experience,  rarely  fails  to  give  body  and  long 
life  to  the  diseased  fancy.  I  have  hesitated  whether  it 
be  right  to  disclose  such  a  revelation  of  himself,  but  the 
mastery  which  he  obtained  over  this  strong  evil  cannot 
adequately  be  indicated  unless  the  strength  of  the  evil 
be  first  shown.  The  extracts  show  the  workings  of  his 
mind  better  than  any  mere  description  of  mine  could. 

Williams  College,  May,  1854. 
....  Different  circumstances  conspire  to  render 
me  perfectly  miserable;  a  very  agreeable  condition,  I 
assure  you.  I  don't  know  as  you  are  aware  of  it,  but 
I  am  very  often  subject  to  fits  of  the  indigoes,  as  some 
would  term  them.    At  all  events,  whatever  may  be  the 

causes,  I  am  altogether  in  despair  at  such  times 

For  the  last  three  years  nearly,  I  have  seldom  been  hap- 
py for  any  length  of  time,  —  all  last  vacation  I  was 
wretched;  to-day  I  have  almost  wished  to  die.  My 
prayers  seem  like  mockeries,  heartless,  cold,  and  ineffect- 
ual. I  can  and  usually  do  appear  lighthearted,  but 
within  a  continual  fire  is  burning.  I  see  what  I  ought 
to  be  as  a  Christian,  but  not  having  motives  to  exertion 
sufficiently  heavenly,  I  make  but  little  true  progress. 
....  I  have  harbored  these  feelings  for  so  long  that 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  57 

tliey  have  become  a  kind  of  monomania,  which  I  love  to 
gloat  over,  and  thus  they  continually  react  upon  me.  In- 
stead of  building  castles  in  the  air,  I  dig  dungeons  in  the 
earth.  I  continually  think  of  myself  as  of  no  ability, 
having  no  decision  of  character,  no  originality,  no  judg- 
ment, no  perseverance,  no  taste  in  regard  to  any  matter, 
no  conversational  powers,  no  power  in  writing,  no  agree- 
able companionship,  and,  in  fine,  no  anything  which  I 
ought  to  have.  I  seem  to  have  lost  all  true  self-esteem ; 
and  to  crown  all,  and  that  which  causes  me  most  to 
despair,  is  my  want  of  patience  in  well-doing,  my  having 
a  name  to  live  when  I  am  dead. 

....  As  regards  my  religious  feelings,  if  I  wanted 
to  be  better  I  could,  but  there  is  a  kind  of  do£fcred, 
sullen  determination  to  continue  as  I  am,  moping  and 
fretting ;  and  the  only  cure  is  to  let  myself  alone  until 
I  see  what  a  fool  I  am.  You  seem  to  think  that  I  have 
deep  sorrow  for  sin.  I  differ  from  you.  I  don't  know 
what  true,  sincere,  heartfelt  sorrow  is  —  no  godly  sor- 
row, for  godly  sorrow  worketh  repentance  unto  salva- 
tion, not  to  be  repented  of.  My  sorrow  produces  no 
such  results.  Vanity  of  the  lowest  stamp  here  comes 
in,  and  I  delight  in  feeling  miserable,  and  would  rejoice 
if  others  knew  it  and  \\o\x\.di  pity  me.  I  know  perfectly 
well  that  I  ought  to  forget  myself  and  look  to  Christ, 
but  I  don't  want  to,  for  that  would  be  depriving  my 
mind  of  one  source  of  its  delight,  morbid  self-contem- 
plation  The  least  sign  in  any  particular  that  I 

am  low  in  piety  is  magnified  and  construed  into  a  sort 
of  invincible  sin.  For  instance,  when  prayer  is  offered, 
no  matter  where,  I  cannot  follow,  but  instinctively  my 
mind  goes  hop,  skip,  jump.  I  have  tried  a  little  to 
overcome  this  propensity,  but  in  vain.     I  think  I  see 


58  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

pretty  clearly  what  a  Christian  character  is,  and  if  I 
am  to  be  a  missionary,  I  must  be  a  holier  man. 

....  Here  is  another  source  of  discouragement,  — 
I  cannot  write  decently.  Behind  all  lies  the  cause,  — 
entering  college  too  early.  I  did  not  know  what  I  was 
to  study  for,  and  failing  once,  I  have  been  gradually 
falling  backward,  and  am  now  a  meagre  student.  This 
fact  is  impressed  upon  me  every  day.  I  went  on  to 
Greylock  Monday :  coming  down,  the  conversation 
turned  on  saw-mills,  thence  to  water  principles,  which 
we  have  studied,  and  with  which  we  should  be  ac- 
quainted, but  I  could  only  be  silent  from  ignorance,  and 
so  on  ;  when  anything  was  talked  about  I  had  to  re- 
•main  mum.  I  kept  busily  punning  until  I  became  dis- 
gusted with  myself;  and  so  it  is  at  any  little  meeting 
of  students,  —  I  cannot  engage  in  general  conversation. 
In  my  reading  I  am  very  superficial,  —  remember  noth- 
ing scarcely  of  importance,  and  the  quicker  through 
the  better.  I  am  exceedingly  barren  on  common  topics 
and  general  information,  so  that  I  am  very  seldom  of 
use  to  anybody.  I  am  conscious  that  I  am  boring  you, 
and  doing  myself  harm,  perhaps,  but  I  am  through  in 
this  letter. 

It  must  be  observed  that  though  he  was  so  open  in 
this  letter,  his  ordinary  comrades  saw  little  evidence  of 
his  morbidness  ;  he  wore  an  outward  cheeriness  even 
w4ien  depressed  at  heart,  for  he  revolted  from  that  form 
of  self-tormentinor  indulo;ence  which  leads  one  to  seek 
compassion  by  the  exhibition  of  a  doleful  face  in  pub- 
lic. How  he  dealt  with  the  evil  may  be  seen  from  a 
few  words  addressed  to  one  who  disclosed  very  much 
the  same  experience  to  him  a  year  afterward.     "  You 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  59 

seem  to  think,"  he  writes,  "  that  I  should  be  able  to 
offer  some  remedy  for  '  blues,'  as  I  have  been  so  subject 

to  them One  thing  I  know,  that  if  a  person 

gives  himself  wholly  to  the  work  of  good,  if  one  em- 
ploys all  the  energies  of  body  and  mind,  whether  the 
result  of  one  talent  or  of  ten,  if,  forgetting  self  as 
much  as  possible,  we  labor  for  our  Saviour,  we  shall 
lack  no  good  thine/.  I  believe  that  the  secret  lies  in 
dethroning  self  entirely,  and  living  altogether  in  ac- 
cordance with  the  great  law  of  benefaction.  That 
must  be  it." 

It  was  work  and  a  spirit  of  beneficence  which  brought 
for  him  a  deliverance,  in  large  measure,  from  unhappy 
moods ;  as  these  were  closely  connected  with  his  relig- 
ious convictions,  so  it  was  Christian  activity  that  sup- 
plied the  regulative  power.  Constantly,  spite  of  fail- 
ure, pressing  toward  a  higher  tone  of  life,  the  ultimate 
motive  with  him  was  loyalty  to  the  Saviour.  This  was 
no  occasional,  fitful  incentive  to  a  better  life,  a  more 
energetic  service  ;  it  was  deep  in  his  being,  occupying 
the  very  heart,  and  issuing  forth  through  all  the  chan- 
nels of  his  nature.  The  hearty  affection  which  held 
him  so  firmly  to  friends  was  rendered  more  catholic  by 
his  love  for  the  Saviour  of  men.  In  this  spirit,  and  not 
under  the  thraldom  of  an  unloved  conscience,  though 
duty  ever  stood  ready  to  press  its  claims,  he  tried  to 
brino;  others  into  the  kinodom  of  God.  There  was 
such  a  transparency  about  his  motives,  such  a  winning 
power  in  his  artlessness,  that  he  was  able  to  reach  some 
who  would  have  repelled  religion  coming  in  the  un- 
lovel}'"  guise  which  it  not  unfrequently  wears  in  college. 

Whilst  he  was  bewailing,  and  honestly,  his  own  slack- 
ness and  timidity,  the  record  of  his   brief  note-book 


60  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

shows  him  going  to  one  and  another,  for  what  purpose 
one  may  easily  see  who  knew  their  characters.  Nor 
did  he  do  this  with  incautious  zeal,  but  rather  with 
earnest  prayer,  and  with  judgment  correct,  because 
instinctive.  These  men  loved  David.  They  saw  in 
him  not  only  a  good  fellow,  but  one  who  was  staunch 
in  his  loj^alty  to  his  Lord,  struggling  after  purity  ;  they 
were  sure  he  worshipped  at  the  cross.  Thus  writes 
one  of  his  classmates :  — "  He  did  not  shut  himself 
away  from  men's  hearts  because  they  believed  as  he  did 
not,  or  because  they  had  not  yet  proven  themselves 
worthy  and  Christian.  He  was  not  afraid  of  being 
soiled  by  publicans  and  sinners ;  he  could  sit  at  meat 
with  them.  He  did  not  pour  on  the  ground  the  human- 
ities in  him,  when  he  resolved  to  serve  the  Lord  Jesus 

as  a  missionary  in  India Men  were  not  repelled 

from  him  by  any  conventional  manners,  nor  any  as- 
sumed frigidity.  He  put  constraint  on  no  company 
when  he  entered  it,  nor  did  he  leave  his  principles  at 
home,  either,  for  any  fear.  He  was  willing  to  show  what 
he  was,  a  friend  of  Jesus,  and  he  was  not  willing  to 
seem  what  he  was  not." 

The  missionary  purpose,  which  had  its  birth  simul- 
taneously with  his  Christian  life,  remained  unshaken, 
and  in  the  last  two  years  of  his  college  course  was  set 
in  constant  motion.  There  existed  at  Williams,  then 
as  now,  the  Mills  Theological  Society,  —  an  association 
of  such  students  as  designed  entering  the  ministry.  It 
was  chiefly  a  literary  society,  holding  its  meetings  on 
Sunday  evening,  one  week  giving  the  time  to  theologi- 
cal discussion  and  essays,  the  next  to  missionary  intelli- 
gence and  essays  upon  kindred  topics.  It  held  its  own 
better,  and  was  subject  to  less  fluctuation  of  interest  in 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  61 

those  days  than  any  other  of  the  societies ;  there  was 
little  of  that  hustling  for  places  of  honor  which  worked 
evil  in  the  secular  societies ;  a  well-defined  purpose 
regulated  the  conduct  of  the  meetings,  and  some  of  the 
worthiest  efforts  in  colleo:e  were  made  in  the  Mills. 
David  joined  the  society  early,  but  it  was  not  till  his 
class  had  come  forward  into  Junior  year  that  he  took 
any  active  part ;  then  and  thereafter  he  was  a  leading 
member.  As  a  debater  and  essayist,  he  made  little 
show  ;  but  as  far  as  spirited  interest  and  unwearied  labor 
were  concerned,  he  was  extremely  efficient.  He  was 
not  content  with  performing  his  allotted  duties,  but  en- 
gaged in  new  enterprises  in  behalf  of  the  society,  and 
was  continually  plotting  how  he  should  advance  its  in- 
terest. He  entered  into  correspondence  with  individual 
missionaries  all  over  the  world,  'especially  those  who 
were  graduates  of  the  college,  enlisting  their  sympathy, 
obtaining  fresh  intelligence,  and  what  was  better,  con- 
necting the  idea  of  missions  in  the  minds  of  the  mem- 
bers with  personal  associations.  He  sought  out  Chris- 
tians in  the  lower  classes,  brino-ino;  them  into  the  meet- 
ings,  and  by  his  ardor  generally  giving  a  warmer  tone 
to  the  proceedings  of  the  society. 

"  I  shall  never  forget,"  writes  one  of  a  lower  class, 
"  the  first  time  I  saw  David.  It  was  one  Sabbath 
afternoon  shortly  after  I  entered  college.  He  came  to 
my  room  in  New  Street,  to  find  out  whether  my  chum 
and  I  were  Christians.  H.  had  filled  the  room  with 
tobacco-smoke,  and  we  were  reading.  David,  I  fear, 
thought  it  rather  a  murky  atmosphere  for  very  vigorous 
piety,  though  he  said  nothing  of  the  kind.  But  his 
earnest,  enthusiastic  tone  when  he  spoke  of  the  Mills 
Society,  (of  whose  existence  I  was  then  for  the   first 


62  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

time  informed,  and  wiiich  I  joined  at  his  invitation,) 
and  his  entire  manner,  was  a  severe  rebuke  to  my  life- 
less piety.  I  felt,  when  he  left,  that  I  had  met  with  a 
living  Christian,  and  this,  I  think,  was  the  impression 
he  always  made.  There  was  no  ostentation,  no  thrust- 
ing the  fact  upon  you ;  but  his  spiritual  life  seemed  as 
natural  as  the  fragrance  of  a  rose,  or  the  activity  of  a 
healthy,  animal  life." 

The  library  of  the  society  had  been  growing  by  slow 
accretions  for  several  years,  but  had  received  no  care- 
ful attention  until  he  busied  himself  about  it.  He  laid 
aside  his  constitutional  shyness,  and  addressed  himself 
to  all  manner  of  people  who  were  likely  to  be  of  any 
service ;  in  vacation  he  was  constantly  on  the  hunt  for 
books  and  money,  and  showed  such  unfeigned  pleasure 
when  he  got  what  he  wanted,  that  his  possessions  in- 
creased rapidly.  In  this  way  he  secured  several  hun- 
dred volumes  of  worth,  and  when  during  Senior  year 
he  occupied  the  room  of  the  society  containing  its 
library,  he  had  the  most  fond  affection  for  the  cases 
of  books  which  had  so  increased  under  his  administra- 
tion. The  whole  library,  indeed,  he  inspected  carefully, 
rearranged,  and  catalogued. 

The  society  took  its  name  from  Samuel  J.  Mills, 
whose  place  in  the  history  of  American  missions  is  so 
notable,  and  whose  memory  is  one  of  the  sacred  tradi- 
tions which  those  of  like  mind  at  Williams  love  to 
preserve.  David,  always  ready  to  be  impressed  by 
Christian  heroism,  felt  a  personal  enthusiasm  for  the 
man  and  all  relating  to  him,  as  a  labor  of  love  apply- 
ing himself  to  the  recovery  of  what  stray,  unrecorded 
facts  there  might  be  about  him,  which  he  afterward 
wove  into  an  address  before  the  society.     He  was  par- 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  63 

ticularly  anxious  to  get  some  likeness  of  Mills,  with  the 
intention,  I  think,  of  securing  a  satisfactory  painting  for 
the  society.  His  search  was  unsuccessful,  but  it  de- 
served success.  He  wrote  letters  and  took  long  journeys 
on  foot,  visiting  the  places  where  Mills  had  lived,  hunted 
for  his  relations  and  friends,  and  did  not  give  over  till 
he  had  tried  all  possible  measures.  In  all  of  these  labors 
he  seemed  wholly  absorbed  in  the  immediate  ends  pro- 
posed, singularly  forgetful  either  of  good  or  of  honor 
for  himself.  He  was  surprised  when  elected  president 
of  the  society,  pleased  chiefly  because  of  the  apprecia- 
tion manifest  in  the  election,  and  anxious  lest  the  feel- 
ings of  others  should  be  hurt  by  his  promotion.  Indeed, 
it  was  the  same  in  all  the  societies  which  he  served  in 
college ;  he  never  seemed  to  seek  office  or  personal 
distinction.  His  labors  had  no  concealed  end  in  his 
own  glory. 

Nor  was  his  zeal  for  missions  confined  to  the  Mills 
Society.  He  recognized  then,  as  more  fully  afterward, 
the  value  of  personal  influence  in  these  matters.  He 
did  not  leave  the  truth  to  find  its  way  to  the  hearts  of 
men ;  he  carried  it  himself  and  presented  it  to  them. 
His  own  plans  were  so  definitely  formed,  his  conviction 
of  duty  so  firm,  that  he  was  somewhat  impatient  of 
the  slower  decisions  of  others.  It  was  so  plain  to  him  — 
he  would  make  it  plain  to  them.  Although  several  of 
his  class  and  associates  afterward  became  foreio-n  mis- 
sionaries,  yet  he  was  the  only  one  I  am  told,  of  those 
who  then  expressed  an  intention  to  engage  in  this  occu- 
pation, who  ever  entered  a  foreign  field.  He  was 
toasted  at  the  farewell  class-supper  as  the  missionary  to 
India :  that  was  his  distinction.     Indeed,  it  was  impos- 


64  LIFE  AND   LETTERS   OF 

sible  for  him  to  conceal  a  purpose  so  mastering ;  any 
one  who  Hked  could  see  how  much  he  meant. 

With  all  this  active  zeal  for  the  missionary  cause, 
there  was  kept  up  a  careful  preparation  of  himself  for 
the  work  whicli  he  had  undertaken.  Aside  from  his 
regular  studies,  the  pursuit  of  whicli  received  also  an 
impulse  from  a  consideration  of  their  bearing  upon  his 
profession,  his  elective  study  and  reading  looked  in  this 
direction  ;  yet,  from  the  outset,  his  catholicity  of  nature 
led  him  to  take  a  wide  and  profound  view  of  what  con- 
stituted intellectual  preparation  for  his  work.  His  desire 
for  a  positive  object  had  led  him  to  choose  not  merely 
serving  Christ,  but  serving  him  as  a  missionary  ;  not  as 
a  missionary  merely,  but  as  a  missionary  in  India;  nor 
even  there  did  he  pause,  but  he  chose  the  very  district 
of  India  in  which  he  should  establish  himself;  thus 
only  could  he  satisfy  his  nature.  So  also  in  study,  his 
guiding  thought  was  not  for  improvement  of  his  mind  as 
a  disciple  of  Christ,  but  running  through  general  pur- 
poses, he  came  quickly  to  the  special  purpose  of  becom- 
ing acquainted  with  India,  and  minutely  of  that  section 
which  was  to  be  his  home.  But  as  his  instinct  for 
special  ends  in  life  did  not  belittle  his  more  compre- 
hensive purpose  of  serving  the  Lord  with  body,  mind, 
and  soul,  so  neither  did  his  demand  for  special  prepara- 
tion induce  a  narrow  estimate  of  what  constituted  that 
preparation.  He  believed  in  the  largest  culture  as  essen- 
tial to  the  most  effective  minute  labor  of  the  mission- 
ary. His  tastes  and  interests  were  of  so  wide  a  range, 
that  he  could  not  become  narrow-minded  so  long  as  he 
permitted  them  to  indicate  the  direction  of  his  studies. 
He  governed  the  extent  rather  than  the  kind  of  his  pur- 


DAVID  COIT   SCUDDER.  65 

suits,  displaying  good  judgment  in  knowing  where  to 
stop.  He  never  forgot  his  purpose,  but  he  did  not  force 
all  studies  and  plans  to  do  the  bidding  of  that  ruling 
purpose ;  rather  that  purpose  was  so  much  his  entire 
life,  and  he  was  so  hearty  and  natural,  that  all  effort  was 
inspired  by  his  Christian  and  missionary  zeal. 

The  Rev.  H.  R.  Hoisington,  formerly  at  the  head 
of  the  Batticotta  School  in  Ceylon,  was  at  this  time 
occupying  the  pulpit  at  Williamstown,  having  been 
compelled  to  return  to  this  country  on  account  of  ill 
health.  It  was  a  most  fortunate  thing  for  David  that, 
at  the  beginning  of  his  missionary  studies,  he  should 
have  had  the  advice  and  assistance  of  one  so  calculated 
every  way  to  assist  him.  Mr.  Hoisington  was  an  admi- 
rable Tamil  scholar,  and,  at  his  suggestion,  David  com- 
menced the  study  of  the  language  as  by-work,  at  first 
only  familiarizing  himself  with  the  vocables,  and  then 
going  further  and  further,  with  an  untiring  zeal  wdiich 
seemed  in  no  way  to  be  weakened  by  the  unavoidable 
breaks  in  the  course  of  study.  I  do  not  think  tliat 
the  difficulty  of  the  language  ever  seriously  disconcerted 
him.  He  took  it  as  a  matter  of  course  that  he  would 
have  to  master  it ;  he  must  learn  Tamil  at  some  time, 
it  were  better  if  he  could  know  something  of  it  before 
going  to  India ;  and  here  was  the  opportunity.  After 
he  had  begun  upon  it,  there  was  no  thought  of  relin- 
quishing it ;  he  was  not  in  the  habit  of  torturing  him- 
self with  the  objections  which  one  may  so  easily  call 
up,  after  he  has  made  a  decision.  His  ease  in  acquiring 
language  and  his  humor  for  airing  strange  words  gave 
some  zest  to  the  pursuit. 

"While  it  certainly  was  amusing,"  writes  a  classmate, 
"  to  see  his  enthusiasm,  and  the  facility  with  which  his 
5 


66  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

rapid  tongue  adapted  itself  to  the  speech,  it  was  also 
more  than  amusing :  it  showed  how  cordially  he  had 
taken  in  hand  the  business  of  his  life,  and  how  practical 
were  all  his  conceptions  of  it.  I  don't  believe  he  really 
found  any  sympathy  among  his  companions  with  what 
he  was  doing.  I  surely  never  stopped  to  consider  much 
what  he  was  at  —  why  he  cared  to  bother  with  a  Tamil 
lesson  two  or  three  times  a  week,  and  what  relation  it 
had  to  the  great  interests  of  man.  Probably  most  of 
us  laughed  at  him,  —  thought  it  was  one  of  his  queer 
freaks,  an  easy  way  of  letting  off  some  of  his  superflu- 
ous energy,  —  would  have  been  wholly  incredulous  if 
any  had  told  us  that  this  was  the  thing  that  lay  nearest 
his  heart,  and  that  was  really  proving  him  a  hero.  As  he 
jabbered  to  us  the  final  syllables  he  learned,  —  a  thing 
he  often  loved  to  do,  —  we  did  not  see  at  all  how  di- 
rectly the  whole  force  of  his  being  was  pressing  toward 
the  one  desire  of  his  life." 

India  was  always  near  to  him,  never  far  off.  This 
was  the  secret  of  the  ease  with  which  his  mind  adapted 
itself  to  apparently  remote  enterprises.  To  a  mind 
seeking  near  objects  upon  which  to  exert  itself,  it  is  not 
so  much  distance  in  time  or  space,  which  constitutes 
remoteness,  as  abstraction  from  the  realms  of  practical 
effort ;  thus  metaphysics  David  could  not  bring  within 
the  range  of  his  vision,  yet  there  were  some  minds  in 
his  class  to  whom  the  "  oversoul  "  was  far  nearer  than 
the  profession  which  they  may  have  anticipated  entering 
a  few  years  hence.  A  year  before  he  graduated,  David 
wrote  :  —  "  Father!  you  can  have  no  idea  how  much  I 
think  of  India.  It  is  almost  my  first  thought  in  the 
morning,  and  is  present  during  the  day.  You  talk 
about  my  studying  two  years  before  entering  the  semi- 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  67 

nary.  Impossible !  I  should  pine  for  '  India's  coral 
strands.'  India!  is  my  watchword.  I  know  the  Tamil 
alphabet,  two  hundred  and  twenty-eight  letters.  It  is 
quite  simple,  but  such  words !  whew !  enough  to  take 
the  breath  out  of  your  body  before  you  finish.  For 
instance,  uyirmeyyerluttu,  one  word,  which  is  much 
harder  to  pronounce  than  it  looks  to  be  on  paper.  The 
letters  of  that  word  are  these  in  Tamil.  (Here  follow 
a  dozen  of  the  Tamil  characters,  which  were  freely 
sprinkled  in  his  letters.)  Before  long  I  shall  read,  and 
before  long  preach  the  everlasting  Grospel.^^ 

1  have  been  forced,  in  illustrating  the  growth  of  his 
mind,  to  anticipate  any  account  of  the  closing  year  of 
his  college  course.  Little  remains  to  be  said,  since  this 
year  did  not  differ  materially,  in  its  outward  character, 
from  the  preceding.  More  leisure,  indeed,  is  allowed, 
as  the  student  becomes  able  to  be  trusted  with  it,  and 
this  is  turned  to  the  advantage  of  reading,  especially  on 
subjects  collateral  to  the  investigations  in  philosophy 
which  form  the  basis  of  Senior  studies.  This  year  at 
Williams  enjoys  some  reputation  from  the  tuition  given 
by  Dr.  Mark  Hopkins,  the  President  of  the  college: 
many  fancy  that  the  advantage,  apart  from  his  personal 
power,  lies  in  a  more  philosophical  arrangement  of  the 
subjects  discussed ;  but  they  seize  upon  only  one  part 
of  a  system  which  unifies  the  entire  course  of  educa- 
tion in  the  college,  a  system  under  which  the  student 
works,  unawares,  but  which,  at  the  beginning  of  the 
last  year,  is  explained  to  him.  This  system  has  for  its 
informing  idea  the  doctrine,  that  the  student  is  to  work 
out  his  own  education  and  is  not  to  be  overlaid  by 
any  merely  applied  knowledge.  I  do  not  hesitate  to 
say  that   the  one  value  which   attaches  preeminently 


68  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

to  Williams,  spite  of  the  many  weaknesses  in  the  col- 
lege appointments,  is  the  power  which  belongs  to  it  of 
inducing  independent,  vigorous  thought.  Culture,  in 
its  ordinary  sense,  there  is  none  ;  men  leave  the  college 
frequentl}^  with  as  little  grace  as  they  entered ;  of  ac- 
quaintance with  general  literature  there  is  scarcely 
anything  ;  the  libraries  are  scantily  supplied  ;  thorough 
scholarship  in  the  classics  is  quite  unknown,  (I  speak  of 
the  days  when  my  brothers  and  I  were  there,)  but  after 
all  there  remains  a  substantial  success,  of  which  the 
college  may  justly  be  proud,  in  the  ability  which  has 
been  given  to  the  graduates  to  use  themselves. 

The  same  immaturity  which  previously  had  prevented 
David  from  getting  the  full  value  of  the  college  curric- 
ulum existed  still  to  much  greater  disadvantage,  yet 
he  grew  rapidly,  although  far  from  comprehending  the 
studies  in  which  he  was  engaged.  His  previous  vague 
and  uncertain  intellections  were  fast  giving  way  to  more 
careful  and  definite  reasonings.  In  his  reading  he  grew 
more  methodical  and  judicious.  He  enjoyed  most 
heartily  the  life  he  led.  He  could  feel  the  satisfaction 
of  being  employed  upon  studies  most  valuable  to  him, 
which  were  daily  setting  in  order  his  willing  mind ; 
the  abundant  leisure  was  grateful,  as  it  afforded  such 
opportunity  for  carrying  out  his  prolific  schemes.  His 
friends  were  fast,  and  two  brothers,  in  different  classes, 
gave  him  companionship  beside.  My  first  year  at  col- 
lege was  David's  last,  and  I  cannot  forget  the  manner 
of  his  life  so  full  to  overflowing :  his  days  flying  by 
under  the  pressure  of  occupation,  and  even  his  nights 
contributing  to  his  draught  of  life ;  for  there  was  a 
passage  from  his  room  in  the  upper  story  of  East  Col- 
lege to  the  flat  roof  of  the  building ;  there  on  starlight 


DAVID  COIT   SCUDDER.  69 

nights  he  would  carry  up  his  blankets,  and  rolling  him- 
self up  in  them,  fall  asleep  with  thoughts  of  India,  and 
of  the  more  distant  land  unseen  by  mortal  eyes.  Such 
nights  had  their  surprises  too,  when  his  dreams  would 
become  grotesque,  and  his  waking  consciousness  would 
be  puzzled  at  the  quick  drops  of  rain  which  at  last 
drove  him  headlong  through  the  trap-door,  dragging 
his  blankets  after  him. 

In  August,  1855,  when  lacking  a  few  months  of 
completing  his  twentieth  year,  he  graduated  with  his 
class,  taking  a  creditable  position,  and  carrying  away 
at  any  rate  the  entire  respect  of  officers  and  students ; 
more,  bearing  with  him  the  personal  affection  of  many, 
and  the  genial  remembrances  of  all  who  had  been  asso- 
ciated with  him.  Surely  he  had  no  enemy,  notwith- 
standing his  strong  prejudices  and  the  difficulty  he 
found  in  concealing  his  opinion  of  whatever  was  mean 
and  dishonorable.  With  great  charity  for  the  weak 
and  ignorant,  always  glad  if  he  could  favorably  inter- 
pret ambiguous  incidents  or  characteristics,  he  could 
not  bear  what  was  mean,  or  indeed  what  was  unnatu- 
ral. It  was  amusing  to  see  the  vehemence  with  which 
he  w^ould  express  his  disgust  at  the  ridiculous  affectation 
of  a  child  that  crossed  his  path  very  often,  as  if  his 
whole  nature  revolted  at  such  a  twist  of  childhood. 
In  his  class  there  was  one  for  whom  he  had  an  almost 
ungovernable  distaste,  on  account  of  a  silly  arrogance, 
poorly  borne  out  by  the  person's  position  and  attain- 
ments. But  when  Commencement  Day  came,  he  did 
not  like  to  part  with  any  of  his  class  except  on  the 
kindest  terms ;  he  was  aware  that  he  had  failed  to 
conceal  his  contempt  for  this  person,  so,  swallowing  the 
disagreeable  sensations  that  arose,  he  sought  him  out, 


70  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

and  said  in  his  cheerful,  hearty  way,  "  Come, , 

we  must  part  friends,"  and  held  out  the  hand  of  recon- 
ciliation. All  that  he  got  in  return,  he  told  me  with 
amusement,  was  two  fingers,  by  which  he  was  to  cling 
to  this  man's  good-will. 

It  was  with  unfeigned  reluctance  that  he  left  his  four 
years'  home.  His  last  letter  from  Williamstown,  writ- 
ten Avhen  the  bustle  of  Commencement  was  over,  ends 
thus :  —  "  All  over,  David  C.  Scudder,  A.  B. !  Oh, 
how  I  shall  Ion  or  to  come  back  here  again.  C.  M.  has 
just  come  to  bid  me  good-bye,  and  soon  the  last  good- 
bye will  be  said,  and  I  shall  be  left  to  myself,  lonesome 
enough.  I  did  and  do  love  my  classmates,  and  these 
noble  old  hills,  and  college- life.  But  I  've  got  to  be  a 
man  like  all  the  rest."  The  mountains  to  which  he 
bade  good-bye  with  sorrowful  feeling,  giving  them  each 
a  personal  farewell,  had  witnessed  a  great  change  from 
the  headlong,  unthinking  boy,  who  scoured  them  with 
all  the  eagerness  of  a  wild  nature.  They  had  seen  his 
awaking  to  thought,  his  hard  struggle  with  an  unruly 
spirit,  his  gropings  after  clearer  light  and  more  peaceful 
air ;  they  had  been  his  friends  when,  to  his  mind,  all 
others  seemed  in  vain,  and  he  had  fled  to  them,  wearied 
with  labor.  His  ardent  purposes  and  strong  resolves 
had  gained  in  firmness  as  he  climbed  the  rugged  hills, 
and  his  eye,  looking  off  from  the  heights  of  Greylock, 
had  been  outrun  by  his  vision  of  more  distant  lands 
which  he  longed  to  reach.  He  associated  with  them 
his  inner  life,  and  they  were  almost  a  part  of  himself. 
Once,  at  midnight,  at  the  beginning  of  a  new  year,  he 
entered  the  town  in  company  with  a  brother,  who  was 
making  his  first  visit.  The  moon  was  shining,  giving 
a  wonderful  character  to  the  silent  hills.     To  any  one 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  71 

it  was  a  scene  of  bewitching  beauty,  but  for  David  it 
was  illumined  by 

"  The  light  that  never  was,  on  sea  or  land, 
The  consecration." 

"  This,"  said  he,  turning  to  his  brother,  "  this  is  my 
home.  Here  I  was  born."  So  did  he  ever  regard  the 
place  ;  and  if  the  mountains  had  known  him  as  he  knew 
them,  they  would  have  seen  him  leaving  this  spiritual 
home,  not  soiled  by  college  associations,  but  ennobled, 
and  rising  to  the  estate  of  manhood ;  all  that  was  gen- 
erous and  right  in  his  character  confirmed,  and  a  power 
obtained  over  evil  which  gained  in  strength  at  each 
conflict. 


72  LIFE  AND   LETTERS  OF 


CHAPTER  IV. 

A  YEAR  IN  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY  AT  ANDOVER. 

[1855-1856.] 

It  is  the  wont  of  many  American  collegians  to  inter- 
mit systematic  study  for  a  year  or  more  after  graduation, 
occupying  themselves  with  teaching  or  travel,  before 
beginning  the  special  study  which  prepares  for  profes- 
sional life.  David  had  expected  to  observe  such  an 
intermission,  from  a  consciousness  of  immaturity,  al- 
though his  eagerness  to  conquer  time,  as  well  as  other 
obstacles,  made  him  impatient  of  delay.  He  finally 
decided  to  pass  directly  from  college  to  the  Theological 
Seminary,  and  take  the  first  year  of  the  course  before 
interrupting  regular  study.  In  September,  1855,  he 
entered  the  seminary  at  Andover,  Massachusetts,  with 
an  older  brother  who  had  graduated  from  college  a 
year  previous ;  others  whom  he  knew  had  been  in  the 
seminary  a  year  or  more  ;  some  of  his  own  college  class 
entered  with  him,  and  while  pursuing  the  course,  he 
welcomed  friends  from  classes  succeeding  his.  In  fact, 
when  transplanted  to  Andover,  he  carried  with  him  a 
good  deal  of  the  Williams  soil ;  it  never  was  easy  for 
him  to  detach  himself  from  friendly  associations,  and  he 
retained  the  liveliest  interest  in  all  the  concerns  of  his 
Alma  Mater.  But  he  was  quite  differently  situated 
now.  Instead  of  being:  in  the  seclusion  of  Williams- 
town,  a  day's  journey  from  home,  he  was  but  an  hour's 
ride  by  rail  from  Boston,  living  in  a  town  which,  from 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  73 

its  nearness  to  the  city,  has  caught  enough  of  city  civ- 
ilization to  have  rubbed  off  something  of  its  rusticity, 
and  yet  is  surrounded  by  a  pleasing  country,  tenanted 
by  country  folk.  The  land  about  Andover  is  varied, 
affording  delightful  walks  and  rides,  without  requiring 
the  severe  toil  which  frequently  is  necessary  in  Wil- 
liamstown  ;  within  a  circuit  of  five  miles,  one  may  find 
the  most  diversified  scenery ;  the  roads  branch  off  in 
every  direction,  and  one  following  them  indifferently 
will  be  led  to  woods  and  ponds,  and  round,  bald  hills. 
One  may  trace  the  windings  of  the  Shawshin,  walk 
along  Indian  Ridge,  lie  on  the  gentle  slope  which  over- 
looks Pomp's  Pond,  with  its  setting  of  forest-trees,  so 
many-hued  in  autumn  days ;  while  Sunset  Rock,  on 
the  edge  of  a  tangled  wood-lot,  above  a  valley,  gives  a 
noble  view  of  the  western  sky. 

Hither  upon  pleasant  evenings  straggle  small  parties 
and  solitaries,  bound  like  sun-worshippers  to  their  even- 
ing devotions.  The  transient  population  of  the  town  is 
so  large  that  there  always  are  some  to  try  the  pleasant 
walks,  or  make  excursions  for  so  unworldly  an  object 
as  to  see  the  sun  set.  In  ordinary  country  villages  of 
New  England,  it  is  only  the  children  or  occasional  vis- 
itors that  take  a  walk  for  the  pleasure  of  it ;  the  busy 
villagers,  when  they  find  leisure,  seek  their  entertain- 
ment in  some  other  form.  Andover  is  an  exceptional 
town ;  a  pretty  large  share  of  its  population  is  of  those 
who  come  to  be  taught  and  those  who  come  to  teach, 
while  the  regular  inhabitants  find  a  good  deal  to  do  in 
providing  for  the  wants  of  the  shifting  school  -  class. 
The  Theological  Seminary,  Phillips  Academy,  enjoying 
some  celebi'itv  under  Dr.  S.  H.  Tavlor's  charo;e,  as  a 
school   preparatory  for  college,  a  large    girls'    school, 


74  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

called  a  Female  Seminary,  smaller  boarding-schools  for 
girls,  and  Punchard  Free  School  for  the  towns-people, 
serve  to  give  an  educational  character  to  the  town, 
vs^hile  the  constant  introduction  of  new  classes  of  stu- 
dents, and  the  large  supply  of  young  people,  keep  the 
face  of  society  changeable. 

At  Williamstown  David  had  seen  nothing  of  society 
except  that  of  collegians,  which  was  not  likely  to  teach 
manners,  whatever  else  it  might  teach  ;  at  home,  he  had 
been  impatient  of  the  restraint  imposed  upon  him  by 
society ;  it  made  him  fidgety,  and  he  used  to  escape 
formal  company  when  he  could.  Much  of  this  was 
owing  to  a  half-tamed  boyishness  and  a  natural  diffi- 
dence, so  that  when  he  went  to  Andover,  he  seemed  to 
regard  his  aversion  from  society  as  a  serious  matter. 
Accordingly,  he  began  faithfully  to  attend  the  regular 
social  gatherings,  held  at  the  professors'  houses,  where 
he  did  his  best  to  enjoy  himself,  with  tolerable  success ; 
only  tolerable,  however,  for  he  often  rebelled.  He  was 
so  unconventional  that  he  was  restless  amongst  conven- 
tional people,  and  felt  the  light  restraints  of  formal  eti- 
quette as  if  they  were  fetters.  Sometimes,  when  our 
own  house  was  the  scene  of  his  misery,  he  would  steal 
out  into  the  back-yard  for  a  whiff  of  freedom,  and 
come  back  meekly  to  his  bondage.  It  made  him 
wretched  to  go  into  a  room  full  of  people,  to  smile  and 
smile  for  an  hour  or  two,  talking  in  driblets  with  vari- 
ous acquaintances,  and,  in  fine,  conducting  himself  with 
propriety.  He  rebelled  against  propriety ;  it  was  hot 
within  him  to  do  something  startling,  and  then  his  feel- 
ing of  being  de  trop  made  him  out  of  humor  with  him- 
self. It  seemed  to  him  that  he  could  give  nothing  to 
society ;    he  thought  much  worse  of  himself  in    this 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  75 

respect  than  did  others,  who  found  him  a  fresh  talker, 
with  so  much  whimsicality  about  him,  that,  on  the  short- 
est acquaintance,  he  was  likely  to  say  or  do  something 
extremely  original  and  mirth-provoking.  In  less  formal 
society,  and  among  friends,  he  talked  well,  though  at 
first  with  a  somewhat  limited  vocabulary.  His  own 
purposes  and  topics  kindred  he  did  not  push  forward, 
but  was  ready  to  kindle  on  the  theme  when  encouraged. 
He  did  not  seek  a  great  deal  of  society ;  he  was  quite 
content  with  the  stated  seminary  levees  and  occasional 
parties,  and  with  calling  upon  the  members  of  his  Sun- 
day-school class  ;  having  done  his  duty,  he  dismissed 
the  matter  for  more  congenial  pursuits. 

A  new  place  and  a  new  set  of  friends  seemed  to 
bring  out  afresh  his  boyishness.  He  was  rather  more 
unique  when  contrasted  with  students  in  Theology 
than  when  among  collegians.  The  prevailing  sobriety 
made  him  more  intemperate  ;  he  would  come  out  of 
his  room  at  the  close  of  study-hours,  and  the  first  taste 
of  fresh  air  would  send  him  frolicking  among  his  staid 
fellows,  till  they  could  not  resist  the  contagion.  His 
fondness  for  startling  people  was  as  strong  as  ever,  but 
if  he  found  his  motives  misconstrued  he  was  ready 
at  once  to  explain  himself,  for  he  could  not  bear  that 
any  one  should  sufier  through  his  escapades.  The  stu- 
dents looked  on  with  amusement ;  they  could  not  help 
making  friends  with  him  at  once.  One  of  those,  who 
was  afterward  an  intimate  acquaintance,  Rev.  Charles 
Newman,  thus  gives  his  impressions  of  David  at  this 
time :  — 

"  My  first  acquaintance  with  your  brother  was  in 
the  fall  of  1855.  On  my  return  to  Andover,  I  found 
him  at  my  boarding-place.     I  was  favorably  impressed 


76  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

by  his  evident  activity  of  mind.  He  seemed  always 
on  the  alert,  never  sitting  down  in  reverie  or  abstrac- 
tion. It  was  his  habit,  when  waiting  for  meals,  to  seat 
himself  upon  a  stool,  or  perhaps  the  floor,  attract  at 
once  the  interest  of  the  children,  and  engage  them  in 
some  conversation  or  play ;  or  he  would  take  a  book, 
or  something  else  into  his  hand  —  his  manner  expressing 
an  incessant  activity.  One  evening,  as  I  was  walk- 
ing somewhat  in  advance  of  the  others,  he  came  up 
with  me  on  the  other  side  of  the  walk,  and  by  most 
irresistible  grimaces  drew  my  attention ;  in  such  a 
strange  way  as  this  was  formed  an  acquaintance  which 
became  very  intimate.  He  was  full  of  frohcs  and 
gambols,  continually  surprising  one  by  some  outburst 
of  his  excessive  vitality  and  glee.  I  walked  much, 
and  he  offered  himself  as  my  companion  ;  through  the 
winter  and  summer  it  became  a  regular  thing,  until 
every  object  on  the  route  became  familiar.  He  would 
address  apostrophes  now  to  a  dog,  now  to  a  peacock, 
and  now  to  a  wood-chopper,  whom  we  passed  on  our 
way ;  he  would  climb  a  bank,  and  with  wild,  extrava- 
gant gesticulation  recite  some  passage  of  poetry.  I 
never  saw  in  any  one  else  that  combination  of  exuber- 
ant, gleeful,  animal  spirits,  and  such  single-eyed  devo- 
tion and  earnestness." 

His  old  habits  evidently  had  not  deserted  him ;  even 
the  rabbit-traps  were  set  when  the  winter  came,  and 
the  old  story  was  repeated,  of  something  getting  in  and 
something  gnawing  out.  He  >vanted  the  same  out-of- 
door  life  to  carry  off  his  exuberance,  and  besides,  if 
the  truth  must  be  told,  his  dyspepsia.  His  college  diet 
was  bearing  its  fruit,  and  for  the  first  time  in  his  life 
he  began  to  suffer  from  physical  weakness  and  disor- 


DAVID  COIT   SCUDDER.  77 

derlj  system.  Other  ailments  appeared,  and  it  was 
interesting  to  see  the  decision  with  which  he  set  about 
recovering  robustness  ;  he  held  himself  strictly  account- 
able for  any  failure  of  his  body  to  do  the  bidding  of  his 
mind.  The  friend  just  quoted  adds  that  he  wore  no 
great-coat  this  winter,  for  which  he  gave  the  whimsical 
reason,  that  he  was  fitting  himself  to  go  as  missionary  to 
Greenland,  if  it  should  be  thought  advisable.  Really, 
he  wanted  to  force  his  system  into  obedience,  and  took 
this  for  one  means. 

The  routine  of  seminary  life  is  somewhat  similar  to 
that  of  college.  Recitations  and  lectures  succeed  each 
other  at  regular  intervals,  and  the  methodical  bell  tells 
off  the  hours  with  precision.  The  student,  however, 
is  allowed  larger  liberty,  compulsory  exercises  are  fewer, 
though  a  pretty  careful  watch  is  kept  that  no  erratic 
student  shall  have  his  own  way  too  much.  The  char- 
acter of  the  studies  and  the  object  of  the  student  give 
a  religious  tone  to  the  exercises,  and  produce,  indeed, 
an  atmosphere  somewhat  different  from  that  of  col- 
lege. The  tendency  frequently  is  to  harden  the  re- 
ligious life,  to  exalt  the  intellectual  above  the  spiritual, 
to  create  a  too  curious  and  irreverent  attitude  toward 
the  divine  mysteries.  This  is  the  direction  in  which 
human  weakness  thus  placed  is  liable  to  err,  but  the 
inhering  advantages  of  the  system  are  no  doubt  supe- 
rior. At  first,  the  chancre  from  reckless  colleo-e  associ- 
ations  to  the  quiet,  serious  way  in  which  seminary 
exercises  are  conducted,  touches  the  heart  of  a  Chris- 
tian, till  he  thinks  nothing  could  be  more  favorable  to 
religious  growth. 

So  it  seemed  to  David,  when  he  began  his  course 
there.     He  liked  the  custom  of  opening  the  recitations 


78  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

and  lectures  with  prayer ;  it  seemed  to  sanctify  mental 
labor,  to  keep  alive  the  remembrance  of  a  consecration 
of  all  powers  to  holy  service.  He  liked  the  social  prayer- 
meeting,  where  a  freedom  of  expression,  a  fulness  of 
sympathy  prevailed  ;  he  enjoyed  study  which  brought 
him  so  close  to  the  divine  wisdom ;  the  cast  of  his  mind 
was  reverential,  and  I  do  not  think  that  he  fell  mucli 
into  the  intellectual  snare  set  for  young  theologians. 
The  chief  delight,  however,  which  he  found,  was  in  an 
association  with  those  in  the  seminary  who  were  ex- 
pecting to  become  foreign  missionaries.  To  such  he 
needed  no  other  commendation  ;  they  were  his  breth- 
ren, and  he  gave  them  unstintingly  of  his  generous 
affection.  If  there  were  any  amongst  them  with  whom, 
otherwise,  he  might  have  little  in  common,  yet,  for  the 
sake  of  the  Cause,  he  loved  them  heartily,  while  he 
gave  his  warmest  affection  to  such  as  were  after  his  own 
heart. 

A  week  or  two  after  his  entrance  of  the  seminary, 
he  was  asked  to  join  a  society  of  *'  Christian  Brethren," 
which  was  composed  exclusively  of  those  who  had  de- 
voted themselves  to  the  foreign  missionary  work,  and 
whose  object  was  mutual  encouragement  and  the  pro- 
motion of  a  missionary  spirit  in  the  seminary.  The 
society  had  been  founded  by  Mills,  in  Williamstown, 
had  been  removed  to  Andover,  and  maintained  ever 
since,  not  obtruding  itself  upon  notice,  and,  indeed,  so 
private  in  nature,  as  to  be  unknown  in  name  or  exist- 
ence to  most  of  the  students.  Each  week,  on  Tuesday 
evening,  the  little  band  met,  and  in  the  most  informal 
manner  carried  on  their  meetings,  chatting  over  per- 
sonal matters,  while  beneath  the  surface  flowed  the 
deep  current  of  an  earnest  purpose  which  needed  no 


DAVID  COIT   SCUDDER.  79 

conventional  propriety  to  make  it  known.  Here  they 
prayed  with  one  another,  conferred  as  to  the  best  man- 
ner of  awaking  an  interest  in  missions,  and  when  one 
of  their  number  sailed,  he  was  bidden  Godspeed,  by 
that  circle  of  young  men,  with  deeper  earnestness  than 
by  the  church  at  large.  To  this  gathering  did  David 
go  weekly,  for  there  he  could  give  out  the  ardor  of  his 
purpose  without  fear  of  its  falling  upon  listless  or  scep- 
tical ears.  The  personal  companionship  of  the  individ- 
ual members  was  much  to  him,  but  I  feel  sure  that  he 
looked  to  the  Brethren  for  the  largest  measure  of  in- 
spiration.  The  purpose  which  had  been  growing  in  his 
soul  had  been,  in  large  part,  nurtured  in  solitude  ;  none 
of  his  college  friends,  dear  as  they  were,  could  give 
him  that  perfect  sympathy  which  he  craved ;  the  en- 
couragement from  his  own  family  and  from  Christian 
friends  was  sincere,  but  it  was  far  off.  Doubtless,  he 
had  been  made  more  self-reliant  by  such  a  discipline, 
but  what  he  now  needed  was  intercourse  with  kindred 
minds,  who  had  common  purpose  and  interests  with  him. 
This  was  granted  him.  In  the  Brethren  he  had  those 
who  meant  what  he  did,  and  to  whom  he  could  freely 
declare  himself.  They  were  brothers,  and  he  gave  them 
a  brother's  affection. 

The  effect  upon  him  was  most  generous ;  there  was 
a  roundness  to  his  life  never  before  seen  ;  delicately  sen- 
sitive to  outward  influences,  though  often  he  seemed 
roughly  to  overbear  them,  the  warm  atmosphere  about 
him  was  favorable  to  his  growth.  The  enthusiasm  with 
which  hitherto  he  had  pursued  his  studies  had  been 
subject  to  fluctuations,  now  it  w^as  more  steady,  more 
full  of  hopeful  power.  He  started  afresh  in  work.  In- 
dia seemed  nearer  than  ever,  there  were  fewer  years  to 


80  LIFE  AND   LETTERS  OF 

look  across,  and  having  about  him  those  who  were 
bound  on  the  same  errand,  a  briskness  was  imparted  to 
his  energies,  an  unhasting  dihgence.  The  regular  stud- 
ies of  the  course  he  took  hold  of  energetically.  With 
characteristic  interest  he  seized  upon  Hebrew  and 
twisted  the  forms  round  his  flexile  tongue,  adding  new 
words  to  his  patois  of  languages.  More  noticeable, 
however,  is  the  industry  which  he  showed  in  private 
reading.  There  is  a  long  list  of  books  read  by  him 
during  this  year,  in  which,  among  numerous  works  in 
general  literature,  one  can  trace  the  beginning  of  a  tol- 
erably close  investigation  of  his  favorite  subject,  which 
hardly  has  a  distinct  name,  unless  it  be  the  Natural 
History  of  Man.  The  unity  and  diversity  of  races, 
types  of  mankind,  the  philological  interpretation  of 
history  received  his  attention,  and  a  foundation  was 
laid  for  more  careful  researches,  as  we  shall  see  here- 
after. In  the  ardor  of  a  young  philosopher,  he  began 
to  write  his  views  upon  these  subjects,  and  discoursed 
upon  ''  Language,"  and  "  one  Primeval  Language,"  in 
the  "Williams  Quarterly,"  the  magazine  of  his  college. 
These  essays  are  written  with  care,  though  by  a  pen 
not  yet  very  facile  ;  he  follows  his  authorities,  but  with 
open  eyes,  and  attempts  some  little  theorizing  himself. 
The  papers  are  nothing  in  themselves,  but  how  wide  an 
interval  there  is,  in  intellectual  culture,  between  them 
and  his  maiden  compositions,  — "  Ambition,"  and  "  Li- 
dependence  must  have  limits  ;"  nay,  between  them  and 
recent  efforts  of  Senior  year  at  college  there  is  a  wide 
difference,  indicating  the  impetus  that  has  been  given 
to  his  mind,  and  showing  promise  of  a  full  and  rapid 
growth. 

The  long  term  in  Andover  is  a  very  long  one,  lasting 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  81 

from  the  middle  of  September  to  the  middle  of  March, 
when  a  vacation  of  six  weeks  follows.  David  had  en- 
joyed this  stretch  of  study,  and  had  worked  with  hearty 
interest,  keeping  his  heart  warm  by  intercourse  with 
zealous  men,  and  interesting  himself  with  a  class  in  the 
Sunday-school.  It  was  a  quiet  winter,  unbroken  by 
any  more  exciting  events  than  two  or  three  holidays 
spent  at  home,  infrequent  visits  from  some  of  the  fam- 
ily, and  the  social  gatherings  in  Andover,  to  be  taken 
once  in  a  month,  with  as  few  grimaces  as  possible. 

He  remembered  his  college  in  those  days.  Two 
brothers  were  still  there,  and  he  insisted  upon  knowing 
all  the  gossip,  and  above  all  kept  in  mind  the  spiritual 
welfare  of  his  Alma  Mater.  He  begged  for  news  of 
any  increase  of  religious  interest.  "You  say  nothing 
about  the  state  of  religion,"  he  writes ;  "  now  remem- 
ber, never  w^ite  a  letter  again  without  [speaking  of  it] , 
whether  affairs  are  dark  or  bright.  All  here  look  for 
news  with  deep  interest."  In  concert  with  his  fellows 
from  Williams  at  the  seminary,  he  prayed  earnestly 
and  affectionately  for  the  college.  Often  did  he  press 
upon  his  brothers'  minds  the  warning  that  never  again 
would  they  find  men  so  impressionable.  "  Boys,"  he 
would  write  in  his  eager  way,  "  I  want  to  urge  upon  you 
to  bear  constantly  in  mind  that  you  never  again  will  be 
placed  in  such  a  favorable  situation  for  affecting  the 
souls  of  your  fellows.  You  will  regret  when  you  leave 
college  and  look  back  upon  the  opportunities  for  doing 
good  lost,  I  tell  you."  When  the  spring  vacation 
came,  he  took  a  journey  to  Williamstown,  going  unan- 
nounced, as  he  always  delighted  to  go,  surprising  his 
brothers  and  friends  by  suddenly  appearing  at  the 
'Logian  meeting.     He  spent  a  fortnight  there,  for  the 

6 


82  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

sake  of  Mr.  Holsington's  aid  in  his  Tamil  studies, 
which  he  had  kept  up  through  the  year,  and  enjoyed 
exceedingly  a  return  to  his  old  haunts.  Once  more  he 
took  his  favorite  walks,  went  into  the  college  exercises, 
and  showed  the  attachment  of  a  son  to  his  old  home. 
He  had  for  some  time  been  considering  the  project  of 
spending  a  year  or  two  years  in  teaching  at  the  South, 
and  was  rather  perplexed,  partly  from  the  difficulty  of 
obtaining  a  desirable  situation,  partly  from  the  strong 
aversion  which  he  felt  from  postponing  too  long  his 
departure  for  India.  He  visited  New  York  after  his 
stay  in  Williamstown,  but  found  little  satisfaction,  and 
returned  to  Andover  to  reside  for  the  short  term,  still 
undecided  in  his  plans. 

The  beauty  of  this  gentle  country  captivated  him, 
and  he  was  light-hearted  as  he  studied  by  his  open  win- 
dow, or  sought  for  early  flowers  along  Indian  Ridge. 
"  Dingy,  dark  Myrtle  Street ! "  he  writes  to  his  sister, 
"  what  misery  to  be  shut  up  there  this  charming  day. 
Andover  is  coming  out  in  all  its  gayety  and  loveliness  ; 
and  our  room  — just  as  pleasant  as  it  can  be,  looking 
(mi  on  the  old  orthodox  green,  so  very  orthodox  that 
all  the  paths  are  at  right  angles,  and  no  cuts  across. 
I  could  wish  for  no  better  days  for  study.  The  rigor 
of  winter  not  yet  departed :  just  at  that  temperature 
where  a  fire  is  not  needed,  and  where  heat  is  not  felt. 
I  am  in  perfect  trim  for  study.  And  I  am  happy  — 
God  be  blessed  for  happiness."  His  perplexity  regard- 
ing the  €oming  year  kept  him,  however,  unsettled,  and 
liable  to  returns  of  his  old  enemy,  —  morbidness,  not 
yet  wholly  overcome.  The  one  strong  desire  in  his 
heart  was  to  get  to  India ;  some  of  his  friends  in  the 
Senior  class  were  making  their  preparations  for  depart- 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  83 

ure,  and  every  sound  quickened  his  own  desire.  Often 
in  his  brief  diary  of  events  and  books  read,  he  breaks 
out  —  "  Shall  I  ever  be  in  India?  Can  it  be  ?  "  and  one 
could  not  fail  to  see  that  this  was  the  desire  of  his 
heart,  driving  him  willingly  forward.  Yet  his  judgment 
assured  him  that  the  right  course  was  to  wait.  Friends 
wished  him  to  intermit  two  years,  but  he  would  consent 
only  to  leave  the  seminary  for  one.  Whilst  he  was  thus 
hasting,  as  if  he  had  intimation  that  his  time  was  short, 
one  can  easily  imagine  that  different  feelings  prevailed 
in  the  hearts  of  his  home :  they  are  best  expressed  by 
the  following  passage  from  a  letter  of  his  father's :  — 

Boston,  July  15,  1856. 
My  dear  Son  :  —  I  do  not  wonder  that  you  begin 
to  feel  some  solicitude,  as  to  what  disposition  you  should 
make  of  yourself  for  the  coming  year,  if  you  do  not  pur- 
sue your  theological  studies,  for  a  state  of  uncertainty  is 

anything  but  pleasant I  have  thought  a  good 

deal  of  late  about  you,  particularly  since  I  received 
your  letter  which  you  sent  to  me  just  before  you  last 
came  down.  I  have  prayed  much  for  you,  and  feel 
much  for  you,  more  than  I  have  ever  expressed.  When 
you  made  known  to  us  your  intention  to  become  a  mis- 
sionary of  the  cross,  and  to  devote  yourself  to  your 
Saviour  in  a  foreign  field,  I  felt  that  you  had  done  so 
from  a  conviction  of  duty,  and  from  love  to  our  dear 
Redeemer,  and  I  could  not  throw  any  obstacles  in  the 
way,  however  painful  the  thought  might  be  that  after 
a  season  we  should  be  separated  from  you,  perhaps  for 
this  life  :  in  respect  to  myself,  it  will  only  be  for  a  short 
time.  I  have  almost  arrived  at  the  common  age  of 
man,  and  if  you  remained  in  this  country,  I  should  be 


84  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

quite  as  likely  to  be  deprived  of  your  society,  as  God 
might  have  employment  for  you  in  some  distant  portion 
of  our  own  land ;  so  that,  on  the  whole,  I  could  feel  to 
rejoice  that  God  had  inclined  your  heart  to  enter  upon 
the  field  of  duty  you  have  chosen.  And  now,  my  dear 
son,  if  you  are  convinced  that  God  in  his  providence 
points  out  to  you  this  way  to  glorify  Him,  let  nothing 
hinder  you  from  prosecuting  your  design  :  do  what  you 
can  to  qualify  yourself  for  the  work,  but  deliberately, 
and  with  no  undue  haste.  I  do  not  want  you  to  hasten 
away  before  you  are  fully  prepared :  while  this  work 
of  preparation  is  going  on,  you  will  undoubtedly  have 
some  trying  seasons,  —  a  sense  of  duty  and  inclination 
may  come  into  conflict,  —  you  will  have  temptations, 
but  look  away  from  yourself  to  Him  who  redeemed  you 
with  His  blood,  and  who  will  reward  you  for  every  act 
of  self-denial  you  may  make  for  Him,  by  imparting  to 
you  more  of  His  grace,  and  giving  you  sweet  peace,  in 
the  consciousness  that,  though  you  leave  father,  mother, 
brothers  and  sister,  for  His  sake  and  the  Gospel's,  you 
will  receive  a  hundred-fold  in  this  hfe,  and  in  the  world 

to  come  life  everlasting 

Affectionately  yours, 

Charles  Scudder. 

At  the  close  of  the  year,  in  August,  1856,  he  went 
to  Williamstown  again,  to  be  present  at  a  Mission  Ju- 
bilee, held  in  connection  with  the  College  Commence- 
ment, to  celebrate  the  fiftieth  year  since  Mills  and  his 
associates  inaugurated  the  Mission  movement  beneath 
a  haystack,  in  Sloan's  Meadows.  The  ground  where 
the  haystack  stood  had  been  purchased  for  a  Mission 
Park  of  ten  acres,  by  the  friends  of  the  college,  and  it 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  85 

was  intended  to  hold  the  jubilee  there ;  it  was  even 
proposed  by  the  enthusiastic  professor  who  was  the 
chief  mover,  to  have  a  Bungalow  on  the  grounds,  for 
the  accommodation  of  the  visitors.  That,  however,  was 
given  up,  and  the  day  proving  stormy,  the  exercises 
were  held  in  the  church.  Regular  addresses  were  given, 
a  number  of  missionaries  spoke,  and  David,  who  had 
taken  a  lively  interest  in  the  affair,  appeared  with  some 
ancient  letters  of  Mills,  together  with  the  original  con- 
stitution, in  cypher,  of  the  society  formed  by  him.  In 
a  letter  to  a  friend  just  sailing  for  India,  he  gives  this 
brief  account  of  his  share  in  the  proceedings :  — 

"  It  rained  all  the  time,  —  hence  the  haystack  was 
not  resorted  to,  and  we  did  not  meet  in  the  Bungalow 
as  was  expected.  But  the  church  was  comfortable,  and 
we  enjoyed  the  occasion  highly.  It  really  passed  off 
finely.  Professor  Hopkins's  was  the  main  address,  and 
an  able  production.  He  brought  in  two  of  his  hobbies, 
which  limped  slightly,  —  a  Mission  Seminary  in  this 
country,  as  preparatory  for  a  foreign  field,  where  lan- 
guages could  be  taught  by  returned  missionaries,  and 
lectures  on  the  philosophy  and  character  of  different 
countries  be  delivered.  Also  his  colonization  plan,  of 
sending  out  Christian  farmers,  mechanics,  and  so  on,  to 
work  religion  into  the  pagans.  In  the  Alumni  meet- 
ing next  morning,  a  resolution  was  passed  that  proper 
measures  be  taken  for  the  establishment  of  a  Mission 
School  as  soon  as  thought  advisable.  So  that  may 
amount  to  something  yet.  In  the  midst  of  his  speech, 
he  said  — '  Let  Mills  speak  for  himself,'  and  sung  out 
at  the  top  of  his  voice,  '  And  we  've  a  young  brother 
from  Andover  come  up  to  help  us  ! '  Whereupon,  with 
stately  step  and  solemn,  I  marched  upon  the  stage  and 


86  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

delivered  the  constitution  into  the  hands  of  the  chair- 
man. He  handed  it  to  Dr.  Cox  to  decipher,  when  we 
had  quite  an  interesting  colloquy.  I  then  read  a  por- 
tion of  the  letters,  and  retired  —  a  lion." 

He  visited  New  York  again,  when  he  found  an  op- 
portunity to  act  as  Bible  colporteur  in  the  neighborhood 
of  Orange,  New  Jersey,  whither  he  went,  after  a  short 
visit  home,  in  September,  1856. 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  87 


CHAPTEK   V. 

A  YEAR  OF  EXPERIMENT. 

[1856-1857.] 

The  Bible  agency  was  only  intended  to  occupy  a 
couple  of  months.  The  advantage  which  he  antici- 
pated from  it  was  an  increased  facility  of  converse  with 
the  world,  knowledge  of  men,  and  knowledge  of  him- 
self. The  life  which  he  had  led  had  brought  him  very 
little  into  contact  with  persons  holding  religious  views 
different  from  his  own,  or  with  persons  in  a  different 
order  of  society;  he  had  in  fact  seldom  been  thrown 
amono;  strano-ers.  If  he  was  to  be  an  efficient  mission- 
ary,  it  was  essential  that  he  should  learn,  by  practical 
experiment,  how  to  deal  with  men ;  besides,  the  life 
which  a  student  leads  has  a  tendency  to  withdraw  him 
from  that  sympathy  with  unintellectual  people  which 
is  a  requisite  of  successful  ministry ;  many  a  theologi- 
cal student,  brought  face  to  face  with  a  sleepy  parish, 
has  then  to  take  his  first  lesson  in  the  art  of  discover- 
ing men,  —  a  lesson  which  ends  usually  in  the  equally 
valuable  discovery  of  his  own  strength  and  weakness. 

David  had  a  special  disability  for  such  work  as  he 
undertook,  in  a  shyness  which  made  him  retreat  from 
the  presence  of  a  stranger ;  in  a  sensitive  dread  of  con- 
tact with  rudeness ;  in  a  stubborn,  and  somewhat  surly 
moodiness,  which,  when  on  him,  kept  his  mouth  closed 
as  if  it  were  locked  and  the  key  thrown  away ;  in  an 


88  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

unready  speech,  moreover,  which  want  of  practice  had 
rendered  still  more  broken  and  stammering.  The  work 
of  peddling  Bibles,  accompanied  with  religious  teach- 
ing, was  as  uncongenial  as  it  well  could  be ;  it  was, 
perhaps,  the  most  violent  method  that  he  could  have 
adopted  for  breaking  through  the  crust  of  reserve 
which  idiosyncrasies  and  student-life  had  formed  over 
his  nature.  The  Bible  Society  had  contemplated  a  can- 
vass of  the  entire  country,  in  order  to  offer  the  Bible  to 
every  soul  that  could  be  reached ;  accordingly  the  sep- 
arate districts  were  circumscribed.  David's  embraced 
Orange,  New  Jersey,  and  the  villages  lying  near.  How 
he  managed  to  get  through  with  the  task,  for  such  it 
ever  was,  will  best  be  learned  by  the  following  chron- 
icle, drawn  up  from  his  diary  and  letters  of  the  time. 
His  diary,  as  before  intimated,  never  was  anything  but 
the  briefest  memorandum  of  daily  doings,  with  occa- 
sional breaths  of  desire  or  regret ;  he  had  a  repugnance 
to  formal  statements  of  religious  feeling  in  it,  believing 
that  momentary  sensations  thus  imprisoned  were  very 
unnatural,  and  very  untruthful  indications  of  religious 
progress.  I  have  selected  such  entries  in  his  diary, 
and  such  passages  from  his  letters,  as  show  the  general 
course  of  his  colportage :  — 

Sep.  11.  I  am  to  proceed  to  Orange,  and  commence 
in  the  village  on  foot ;  when  done  with  neighboring 
houses,  to  go  to  another  town,  say  Bloomfield,  and  so 
on  to  several  in  the  thickest  parts ;  then  take  a  horse 
and  wagon,  and  go  through  the  different  outskirts. 
Here  I  am,  and  soon  to  be  at  work.  I  try  to  think  as 
little  about  it  as  possible  till  I  commence.  How  my 
arms  will  ache ! 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  89 

Sep,  13.  Books  came  at  nine  o'clock.  Worked  two 
hours  in  morning,  but  almost  every  one  is  supplied. 

Sep.  15.  A  very  pleasant  day  indeed.  Had  a  long 
talk  with  a  shoemaker  on  English  Catholicism.  He 
quoted  English  history  at  a  great  rate.  Must  learn  to 
present  the  gospel  boldly.  Be  not  ashamed  of  Christ 
and  his  word.  Another  had  never  had  a  Bible,  and 
when  I  gave  him  one,  let  go  his  work  and  com- 
menced reading  just  where  he  opened,  and  became  so 
absorbed  that  he  noticed  me  no  longer.  Such  men  I 
am  to  learn  from. 

Sep.  16.  Talked  a  long  time  with  a  man  who  was  a 
general  unbeliever :  hope  with  a  right  spirit.  A  Cath- 
olic shut  the  door  in  my  face.  I  wonder  that  Catholics 
usually  are  so  polite. 

Sep.  17.  Had  a  curious  talk  to-day  with  a  man  who 
professed  to  doubt  the  genuineness  of  the  Scriptures. 
He  paraded  his  learning  at  a  great  rate.  Also  talked 
about  a  half  an  hour  with  a  Catholic  woman,  compar- 
ing Bibles,  King  James  and  Douay.  'T  is  of  no  use 
whatever  to  combat  their  errors  by  argument,  they  are 
so  wedded  to  them.  How  can  we  reach  them  but  by 
long-continued,  patient  labor?  Don't  think  I  make  a 
very  efficient  colporteur. 

Sep.  19.  A  week  already  spent  in  Orange  at  work, 
and  finished  almost  all  of  my  work  for  first  visit.  To- 
day have  been  in  the  w^orst  hole  of  all,  Reeves's  Row: 
quantities  of  Irish  huddled  together.  But  I  found  them 
remarkabl}^  ready  to  receive  Bibles,  and  I  gave  them 
about  fifteen. 

Sep.  25.  Spent  the  day  in  Bloomfield :  finished. 
What  is  the  reason  ?     I  was  told  that  I  should  visit 


90  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

about  forty  families  in  a  day,  but  to-day  I  have  seen 
eighty :  very  little  destitution. 

Sep.  29.  In  Belleville.  A  man  berated  me  soundly, 
but  I  laughed  at  him,  and  soon  made  him  laugh  him- 
self. He  was  in  good  humor  when  I  left,  —  did  n't 
think  I  was  a  bigot,  and  hoped  that  some  day  I  would 
bring  around  Bibles  for  Bishop  Bailey.  I  think  it  is 
wrong  for  distributors  to  throw  tracts  into  a  house, 
where  they  refuse  to  receive  them ;  it  only  incenses 
them. 

Sep.  30.  Last  day  of  September.  Good-bye.  Next 
month  may  I  do  some  good.  [He  had  an  odd  way, 
throughout  his  diary,  of  bidding  good-bye  to  each  month 
and  year.] 

Oct.  2.  Have  visited  ninety-four  families  to-day  in 
upper  Belleville.  Left  Orange  at  7.30  a.  m.  Walked 
to  Bloomfield  ;  took  horse  to  Belleville,  and  worked 
till  12.30  ;  got  dinner  for  horse  and  self  at  a  small 
farmer's  ;  worked  from  1.30  to  5.30  p.  m.,  and  ended 
with  losing  my  way,  so  that  I  did  not  quite  finish  Belle- 
ville. Rode  to  Bloomfield,  and  walked  and  ran  back 
to  Orans-e. 

o 

Oct.  3.  Worked  in  Belleville.  L'ish  funeral  made 
some  confusion.  One  woman  was  ''  rather  lio;ht  in  her 
head,  and  I'd  better  not  be  bothering  her !  " 

Oct.  7.  Every  morning  regularly  I  'm  blue  ;  toward 
dusk  I  grow  happy,  and  when  trotting  home  I  hum 
tunes,  interspersed  pretty  thickly  with  "  Go  'long  I  " 
"  Get  up  !  "  and  think  of  all  sorts  of  nice  things,  with  a 
beautiful  Orange  sky  right  in  front,  and  a  happy  circle  in 
prospect.  I  feel  good  regularly  in  the  evenings,  and 
decidedly  bad  when  I  get  up.     I  decided  to-day  that  I 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  91 

would  read  on  Catholicism  when  at  home,  and  take  a 
tract  district  and  talk.  I  meet  many  an  intelligent 
Catholic.  I  meet  too  the  most  odd  of  remarks  and 
arguments.  I  was  talking  with  a  woman  to-day  about 
our  sins.  "  Yes,"  said  she,  "  I  'm  a  right  bad  Catholic, 
thank  God !  " 

Oct.  10.  I  suppose  I  ought  to  leave  a  practical  ex- 
hortation at  every  house,  but  most  of  mine  are  expended 
on  my  horse,  and  appear  to  have  so  much  greater  effect 
upon  him  than  upon  the  human  kind  that  I  think  of  con- 
fining my  remarks  to  him  in  future.  I  ask  if  they  have 
a  supply  of  Bibles  ?  they  say,  "  Oh  yes,  we  have  more 
Bibles  than  we  make  good  use  of."  It  strikes  me  that 
that  phrase  must  have  been  in  some  shorter  catechism, 
or  an  example  in  penmanship,  —  people  know  it  so  well. 
I  am  heartily  tired  and  sick  of  hearing  it.  Once  in  a 
while  I  meet  a  poor  family  where  I  give  a  Bible,  and 
try  to  say  something,  but  it  usually  amounts  to  no  more 
than  a  general  remark  of  about  as  much  significance  as 
"  Fine  day  to-day."  You  doesn't  figure  enough  in  my 
talk.  If  success  in  the  work  is  gauged  by  despatch 
and  number  of  Bibles  left,  I  have  done  pretty  well. 
Yesterday  I  made  a  hundred  and  nine  calls,  working 
hard  nine  hours.  This  morning  I  met  a  nice  old  man, 
and  had  a  real  good  chat.  As  I  left  he  gave  me  his 
blessing  and  said :  —  "  Pray  much.  Look  up,  not 
down.  Burn  inwardly !  Said  Dr.  Duff,  '  A  man  of 
fire  is  worth  three  men  frozen.'  Mark  that !  '  A  man 
of  fire  ! '  " 

Oct  11.  Coming  home  in  p.  m.  met  a  httle  Polish 
boy,  a  peddler.  Asked  him  if  his  basket  was  heavy. 
"'T  is  n't  that,"  said  he,  ^' but  I  haven't  sold  a  cent's 
worth  to-day,  and  have  lost  a  dollar's  worth."    The  poor 


92  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

fellow  cried  heartily.  He  said  his  father  would  lick  him. 
I  gave  him  a  dollar  and  quarter :  he  kissed  my  hand. 
I  felt  happy.     A  cup  of  cold  water. 

Oct.  13.  I  asked  one  woman  why  Christ  died.  "  My 
dear  boy,"  said  she,  "  that's  a  very  simple  question,  and 
very  easily  solved,  very ; "  and  after  saying  that  from 
a  child  she  had  known  the  Scriptures,  asked  if  Nicode- 
mus  was  n't  the  man  born  blind,  and  Moses  the  ruler  of 
the  Pharisees. 

Oct.  27.  In  New  York.  I  am  twenty-one  to-day, 
and  ought  to  put  away  childish  things.  Had  a  talk 
with  Woodin  to-day.  He  means  to  be  a  missionary. 
Can  it  be  that  India  will  ever  see  me  ?  Maj^  God  pre- 
pare me. 

His  work  was  interrupted  at  this  time  by  the  Annual 
Meeting  of  the  American  Board  of  Foreio;n  Missions, 
at  Newark  ;  after  the  week  he  returned  for  a  few  days 
to  his  colportage,  when  he  completed  the  canvass  of  his 
district,  and  returned  to  Boston,  rather  out  of  sorts 
with  himself  at  what  he  considered  an  unfaithful  service. 
Such  he  always  afterward  regarded  it,  and  certainly 
whatever  success  he  had  was  won  by  patient  contin- 
uance in  an  unloved  work.  At  the  beo-innino;  of  No- 
vember  he  was  again  at  home,  just  too  late  to  cast  his 
one  Presidential  vote  for  Fremont.  It  was  a  disap- 
pointment to  him,  both  because  he  thought  that  he 
would  never  ao;ain  be  in  America  at  such  an  election, 
and  because  he  had  taken  an  unusual  interest  in  that 
spirited  campaign.  "  It  would  be  pleasant  to  us  as  it 
would  to  you,"  writes  his  father,  "  to  have  you  throw 
one  vote  for  the  President  of  the  United  States,  but  so 
far  as  the  vote  of  Massachusetts  is  concerned,  that  is 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  93 

sure  for  Fremont,  by  many  thousands ;  if  it  were  a 
closely  contested  vote,  as  that  of  Pennsylvania  is  likely 
to  be,  I  should  say  come  home  at  all  hazard  or  ex- 
pense." 

When  he  came  home  it  was  decided  that  he  should 
remain  at  his  father's  house  for  the  remainder  of  the 
year,  extend  his  studies  more  widely,  and  busy  himself 
with  such  religious  work  as  was  at  hand.  The  con- 
sciousness that  he  had  failed  to  do  all  that  he  might 
have  done  in  his  Bible  agency,  made  him  more  anxious 
now,  when  established  at  home,  to  resume  the  same 
kind  of  work,  and  in  accordance  with  a  plan  formed  in 
New  Jersey,  he  took  a  district  in  the  city.  High  Street 
and  neighborhood,  in  which  to  distribute  tracts.  Under 
the  system  in  vogue,  it  is  the  custom  for  each  visitor 
to  receive  monthly  a  package  containing  perhaps  fifty 
copies  of  a  single  tract,  which  he  is  to  distribute  among 
the  families  of  his  district,  using  the  opportunity  afforded 
by  the  offer  of  the  tract,  to  make  the  acquaintance  of 
the  poor,  with  a  view  to  giving  Christian  instruction 
and  learning  their  temporal  wants.  The  efficacy  of  the 
system  depends  upon  the  chance  of  the  tract  being  ap- 
propriate, and  upon  the  patience  and  tact  of  the  visitor ; 
but  it  is  at  best  a  bungling  system,  and  the  visitor  is 
constantly  entangled  by  it.  There  are  few  persons 
indeed,  who  do  not  go  their  monthly  round  with  disa- 
greeable anticipations ;  they  are  heartily  glad  when  it 
is  over,  and  likely  enough  reproach  themselves  for  be- 
ing unwilling  to  take  up  this  cross,  when  they  would 
cheerfully  seek  the  same  end  of  instructing  and  aiding 
the  poor  in  some  less  artificial  manner.  Their  sense 
of  delicacy  is  shocked,  not  so  much  by  the  contact 
they  are  forced  into  with  rudeness,  as  by  the  feeling 


94  LIFE  AND  LETTERS   OF 

that  they  are  assuming  a  position  toward  the  poor 
which  they  themselves  would  resent  if  the  tables  were 
turned. 

Perhaps  the  discipline  was  needed  by  David,  but  dis- 
cipline it  was  to  him.  He  made  a  pretty  wry  face  at 
the  middle  of  each  month  as  he  began  his  rounds, 
which  occupied  two  or  three  afternoons,  but  he  worried 
through  the  work  with  occasional  pleasant  reliefs.  He 
dreaded  the  appearance  of  being  thought  proud,  and 
offered  his  unloved  missives  to  a  poor  man  with  much 
more  sensitiveness  than  he  would  have  felt  toward  one 
his  equal  in  rank.  He  had  a  feehng  that  these  ignorant 
poor  men  ought  to  be  angry  with  him,  and  took  their 
graciousness,  when  it  was  shown,  as  a  great  favor.  He 
had  no  consciousness  of  superiority  to  them,  would  enter 
a  room  blushing,  and  if  allowed,  sit  down  for  a  pleasant 
talk  on  many  things,  stammer  forth  his  message  of 
good  tidings,  then  leave  hurriedly,  glad  at  heart  if  he 
could  say  something,  and  submitting  cheerfully  to  be 
driven  out  of  the  next  room  by  an  enraged  tailor  with 
his  scissors.  One  adventure  which  he  had  afforded 
him  great  amusement.  He  wrote  of  it,  both  briefly  in 
his  diary  and  more  fully  to  two  of  his  brothers,  so  that 
I  give  the  narrative  in  his  own  words : — 

Knocking  at  a  door  in  High  Street,  it  was  slowly 
opened  by  an  Irishwoman,  who  beckoned  me  in  mys- 
teriously with  her  finger,  waved  me  to  a  seat,  muttering, 
"  I  want  to  spake  wid  ye."  I  entered,  thinking  that  a 
tract  might  have  been  working. 

"  Perhaps  ye  a'n't  a-knowin'  me."  Dim  visions  of 
cooks  and  housemaids  passed  before  me,  but  none  to 
respond,  and  I  answered,  — 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  95 

"  Well,  I  'm  not  aware  of  the  fact.  Where  did  you 
know  me?" 

"  An'  whar  did  ye  lave  yer  father  ?  " 

"  My  father !  I  left  him  over  in  the  other  part  of  the 
city.     I  have  just  dined  with  him." 

"  Och  !  ye  tell  me  so  !  D  'ye  think  I  'm  not  a-knowin 
ye?" 

"And  where?" 

"  In  Ireland,  sure  !  " 

"  You  did  !  Why,  I  never  was  there  in  my  life." 

"  Out  upon  ye,  aren't  ye  knowin'  better  than  that? 
Did  n't  I  know  ye  well,  and  did  n't  ye  run  away  down 
to  Cork  with  the  provisions  and  get  thirty  shillin',  and 
come  back  wid  the  small-pox,  an'  away  to  Ameriky, 
and  send  back  to  yer  father  for  the  thirty  shillin',  an' 
he  send  them  on  to  ye,  eh?" 

I  took  several  long  breaths.     And  am  I  thus  ? 

"  And  what  part  of  Ireland  was  I  born  in  ?  " 

"  County  Cork." 

"What  town?" 

"  Bonny  O'Clagh." 

"  And  what  was  my  father's  name?  " 

"  Sure  yer  mither's  name  was  Sweeny,  and  yer  fa- 
ther's name  O'Burke ! " 

I  took  out  my  note-book  to  help  my  memory  in  case 
I  should  be  called  to  make  deposition  at  any  time  re- 
specting my  right  to  lands  in  said  town. 

"  Oh,  now,"  said  she,  "  as  if  3^e  did  n't  know  yer  own 
name  and  all  this  !  " 

"What  is  my  name?"  I  asked,  persisting  in  igno- 
rance. 

"  Neddy  O'Burke."  I  took  a  long  breath,  —  at  last 
thought  to  ask,  — 


96  LIFE  AND  LETTERS    OF 

"  But  how  do  you  know  I  am  he?  " 

"  Sure,  an'  ye  have  yer  father's  hair ! " 

"  And  is  my  mother  yet  alive  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  dear  soul.  Didn't  ye  have  a  sister,  — 
swate  little  thing  she  was  too,  —  and  did  n't  we  sit  up 
to  the  wake  two  days  and  two  nights  when  she  died, 
and  yer  poor  mither  took  on  so  about  it,  —  an'  she  died 
too,  och  hone  !  " 

I  almost  dropped  a  tear. 

"  Had  I  any  brothers  ?  '' 

"  To  be  sure:  there 's  Dan, he's  the  oldest,  an'  you  're 
the  youngest,  an'  there 's  two  betwane,  but  I  don't  jist 
remember  them  now." 

"  How  old  is  my  father?  " 

"I  don' no." 

"As  old  as  you?" 

"  Yes,  indade.  I  was  at  his  weddin',  and  was  only 
about  so  high  at  the  time." 

"  But  how  did  you  know  about  me  ?  " 

"  Now,  ye  're  mighty  innocent,  a'n't  ye  ?  Sure,  the 
last  time  ye  was  round,  I  thought  an'  it  was  you,  an'  I 
told  my  daughter,  an'  I  had  a  mind  to  spake  wid  ye, 
whin  ye  come  round  again.  An'  didn't  I  hearn  tell 
of  ye  by  my  son,  as  workin'  out  in  Dorchister,  the- 
gither  wid  Tom  Lane  ?  " 

A  pause  ensued,  when  she  offered  me  a  pinch  of 
snuff,  saying,  — 

"An'  perhaps  ye  did  n't  know  I  was  related  to  ye  ?  " 

"  Well,  no,  I  was  not  aware  of  it,"  declining  the 
snuff.     "  What  relation  are  you  ?  " 

"  Second  cousin  to  yer  mither." 

As  I  rose  to  go,  after  more  words,  I  said,  — 

"  Won't  you  take  a  tract  for  sake  of  old  times  ?  " 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  97 

''  Lulade  an'  I  won't.  Out  upon  ye  !  What  are  ye 
bringing  round  those  dirty  papers  for?  What  would 
yer  father  be  doin'  to  yer  if  he  knowed  it  ?  " 

I  thereupon  took  my  leave,  decidedly  in  a  cloud,  but 
as  I  was  walking  along  I  thought  that  here  at  last  was 
a  solution  of  many  a  strange  freak  of  my  childhood, 
and  my  pride  arose  as  I  bethought  myself  of  what 
noble  blood  I  was,  —  the  Burkes  being  able  to  hold  up 
their  heads  with  any  one.  I  went  again  to  see  my 
"  cousin,"  but  she  remained  positive.  "  Sure,  there  's 
not  another  man  in  Ameriky  has  such  fair  hair  as 
ye  I  "  she  insisted. 

What  he  wanted  of  this  tract  distribution  was  to  ac- 
quire the  art  of  presenting  the  Gospel  simply  ;  he  knew 
that  most  of  his  work  was  to  be  with  uncultivated 
minds,  and  he  desired  to  learn  how  to  address  such. 
If  he  had  shrunk  from  this  task  or  given  it  up  in  dis- 
couragement, doubtless  he  would  have  found  his  after 
experience  in  India  very  much  more  trying  than  it 
was.  Besides,  he  loved  the  poor,  especially  poor  chil- 
dren ;  in  his  walks  he  would  stop  to  play  with  them, 
and  give  them  sweetmeats ;  he  wished  to  be  brought 
into  a  connection  with  them  which  implied  some  sort 
of  equality,  the  true  equality  of  rank  which  is  meas- 
ured by  divine  rules.  He  found  what  he  asked  in  two 
ways  more  natural  and  more  congenial  to  his  feelings 
than  distributing  tracts. 

One  was  the  care  of  a  Bible-class  of  poor  Swedes  in 
a  Mission  Sunday-school.  They  were  rough  men  and 
women,  but  possessed  the  affectionate  and  docile  nature 
so  characteristic  of  the  Swedish  people.  The  teaching 
was  an  admirable  exercise  for  him  ;  his  class  could  speak 


98  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

English  but  indifferently,  and  were  very  ignorant,  so 
that  he  was  compelled  to  present  truth  in  its  simplest 
form  and  most  intelligible  language  ;  this  in  fact  was 
just  the  sort  of  instruction,  though  not  so  difficult,  as 
that  which  he  was  to  attempt  in  India.  It  was  a  fine 
sight  to  see  this  ruddy  boy,  surrounded  by  the  uncouth 
crowd,  looking,  he  used  to  say,  as  if  they  would  devour 
liim,  and  putting  his  whole  soul  into  the  effort  to  make 
them  understand  the  Gospel.  He  visited  them  in  their 
homes,  and  got  them  to  sing  Swedish  songs  to  him  ;  he 
helped  the  needy,  and  they  all  learned  to  look  upon  him 
as  one  of  their  best  friends.  Once,  one  of  them  lay 
dying  in  the  Hospital,  and  David  was  sent  for.  "  How 
that  man  loved  me  !  "  said  he  afterward  with  unaffected 
humility ;  "  he  could  not  speak,  but  he  pressed  my 
hand  to  his  heart.  It  made  me  feel  so  guilty.  How 
little  I  have  done  for  these  poor  men,  and  yet  they  love 
me  so." 

The  other  help  which  he  found  in  converse  with  the 
poor  was  through  attendance  upon  what  in  Boston  are 
called  ''  Neighborhood  Meetings."  The  city  mission- 
aries in  their  regular  ministry  arrange  to  have  weekly 
an  evening  prayer-meeting,  held  in  the  room  of  some 
poor  Christian,  where  the  neighbors  are  invited,  the 
missionary  with  outside  help  conducting  the  service. 
To  the  educated  Christian  such  meetings  frequently 
afford  greater  spiritual  nutriment  than  the  more  formal 
ones  attended  by  his  own  class  ;  there  is  a  homely  fresh- 
ness about  them  which  animates  his  soul,  and  he  finds 
himself  often  nearer  the  Divine  presence,  when  among 
the  lowly,  than  if  surrounded  by  those  who  might, 
through  his  consciousness  of  their  unspoken  criticism, 
impose  restraint  upon  his  freedom  of  utterance.    David 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  99 

conducted  one  of  these  meetings  regularly  and  attended 
others.  He  found  a  rare  enjoyment  in  bringing  to  these 
humble  people  the  results  of  his  own  Biblical  research 
and  Christian  experience  ;  he  learned  of  them  and  kept 
the  lamp  of  love  burning  steadily,  because  he  fed  it  with 
the  oil  there  to  be  purchased.  So  he  would  climb  the 
rickety  stairs  or  stumble  into  the  cellar,  entering  a 
room  hot  and  close,  with  dim  candles  sputtering  on  the 
table,  where  rested  a  Bible  and  stack  of  hymn-books ; 
chairs  of  every  sort  ranged  about  the  room  and  filled 
by  men,  women,  and  children,  who  were  likewise  dis- 
tributed upon  every  other  available  piece  of  furniture, 
while  babies  crawled  about  the  floor,  breaking  out  into 
unseemly  noises  at  the  most  inopportune  moment.  Here 
would  he  stand,  his  heart  kindling  as  he  looked  upon 
his  audience,  and  in  the  simplest  language  try  to  teach 
them  the  law  of  God,  or  to  direct  their  sight  to  the 
Divine  love  shining  in  upon  the  assembly. 

Children  of  all  ages  were  brought  to  the  meeting, 
and  he  soon  began  to  turn  his  attention  to  them  ;  it  was 
in  these  meetings  that  he  acquired  the  facility,  afterward 
so  noticeable,  of  suiting  his  thought  to  the  capacity  of 
children.  He  had  some  power  of  imagination,  perhaps 
no  unusual  endowment,  but  he  cultivated  it  with  such 
industry  that  soon  it  became  exceedingly  fertile.  His 
life  in  Roxbury,  his  walks  among  the  mountains  of  Berk- 
shire and  New  Hampshire,  were  laid  under  contribution 
to  supply  apt  illustration,  and  the  necessity  for  fresh 
material  made  him  very  observant  in  his  daily  walks, 
so  that  he  would  come  to  his  meeting  with  quite  a  store 
of  illustration,  gathered  in  a  ramble  through  the  streets. 
His  reading  also  gave  of  its  abundance,  and  he  began 
to  draw  upon  India  for  fund  of  anecdc^e.      It  is  an 


100  LIFE  AND  LETTERS   OF 

illustration  of  the  thoroughness  with  which  he  pursued 
whatever  commended  itself  to  his  heart  and  judgment. 
Every  week  he  was  becoming  more  proficient  in  this 
art  of  addressing  plain  people  and  children,  an  art 
which  was  to  be  of  inestimable  value  to  him  in  his 
missionary  labors.  That,  however,  as  an  end  was  not 
so  moving  in  his  mind  as  the  nearer  one  of  success  in 
this  undertaking.  He  loved  the  work  and  the  people 
whom  he  met ;  especially  the  children  attracted  him, 
and  they  on  their  part  were  drawn  to  him.  "  This 
afternoon,"  he  writes  in  his  diary,  "  took  two  little  boys, 
Cassitye  by  name,  to  ride  ;  tliey  belong  to  my  meeting. 
We  went  out  to  Brookline  and  West  Roxbury,  and 
into  the  woods.  They  enjoyed  themselves  highly  ;  are 
nice  boys."  Our  father  at  tliis  time  was  President  of 
the  City  Missionary  Society,  and  it  was  one  part  of  the 
pleasure  which  he  took  in  David's  residence  at  home 
that  they  were  in  such  complete  sympathy  in  these 
matters.  By  every  interest  they  were  united  :  so  young 
was  the  father,  so  growing  the  son,  that  they  were  com- 
panions ;  the  father  enjoyed  his  boy's  mirth  and  enthu- 
siasm, so  accordant  with  his  own  sunny  temper  and 
unselfish  interest,  and  it  was  a  happy  life  that  the 
household  spent  that  winter. 

This  mission-work  amongst  the  poor  did  not  withdraw 
him  from  his  own  church,  in  which  he  was  ever  ready 
to  spend  his  labor.  He  was  faithful  as  a  member,  and 
did  not  forget  that  the  advantages  of  education  which 
he  had  received  called  for  a  return  ;  so  he  was  ready 
with  his  suggestive  comments  upon  the  Bible,  bringing 
to  the  evening  prayer-meeting,  for  the  pleasure  of  oth- 
ers, some  bit  of  exegesis  which  had  struck  his  attention 
in  study.     His  name  however  was  that  of  a  missionary 


DAVID  COIT   SCUDDER.  101 

student,  and  he  did  what  he  could  to  excite  an  interest 
in  missions  at  his  church,  devising  a  plan  for  making 
the  monthly  concert  of  prayer  more  systematic  and 
comprehensive.  He  was  much  concerned  about  the 
best  form  of  presenting  missionary  operations.  "  We 
want,"  he  said,  "  general  facts  and  principles  forced 
upon  our  attention  by  means  of  life-like  illustration." 
He  found  this  most  to  his  mind  in  the  English  peri- 
odicals, and  for  this  reason,  as  well  as  from  a  desire  to 
induce  a  more  catholic  interest  in  missions  than  that 
confined  merely  to  the  workings  of  the  American  Board, 
he  used  these  periodicals  very  freely  at  the  meetings  of 
the  church. 

His  own  spirit  needed  no  prompting ;  if  he  should 
become  forgetful,  his  Tamil  grammar  and  reader  stood 
upon  his  table,  furnishing  both  reminder  and  an  excel- 
lent means  for  conveying  increased  ardor  into  practical 
channels.  Once  or  twice  he  went  up  to  Andover  on  a 
Tuesday  and  surprised  the  "  Brethren,"  who  gave  him 
a  most  hearty  welcome,  while  those  of  the  number  who 
had  already  entered  upon  missionary  life  furnished  him 
with  occasions  for  correspondence.  But  the  letters 
which  he  wrote  to  the  Brethren  generally  are  based 
on  so  intimate  an  acquaintance  as  to  be  too  private  for 
publication.  He  spoke  and  wrote  to  them  very  freely ; 
especially  when  wide  seas  separated,  he  was  emboldened 
to  a  more  frank  disclosure  of  his  mind  than  was  likely 
to  be  made  where  a  face-to-face  meeting  might  produce 
the  consciousness  of  an  extreme  openness  ;  writing  to  a 
friend  upon  the  opposite  side  of  the  world,  whom  we 
scarcely  expect  to  meet  again,  is  like  whispering  secrets 
in  the  dark.  The  following  extract  is  from  a  letter 
written  to  Mr.  Dean,  of  the  Mahratta  Mission  :  — 


102  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

[to    rev.    SAMUEL    C.  DEAN.] 

Boston,  April  11,  1857. 

I  often  sigh  for  Andover  influences,  but  still  am  very 
glad  I  remained  at  home.  I  long  to  be  a  missionary, 
yet  feel  more  and  more  my  unfitness.  I  seem  to  see 
pretty  clearly  what  a  Christian  ought  to  be,  and  yet 
approach  no  nearer  that  desired  state.  Every  mission- 
ary I  am  sure  should  feel  an  ardent  love  to  the  Saviour 
in  his  own  soul,  for  else  how  can  he  love  others  ? 
Do  you  feel  your  love  deepened  as  you  go  on  ?  I 
know  you  must.  I  feel  myself  like  a  man  standing  on 
the  borders  of  some  fair  land  open  to  him,  who  yet  is 
satisfied  with  but  an  occasional  glance.  The  riches  of 
Christ's  grace  I  know  are  free  to  all  who  seek  them, 
still  I  stand  reluctant  to  apply. 

What  sort  of  a  place  is  Seroor?  By  the  map  it  ap- 
pears to  be  on  the  Kokasee  River.  What  sort  of  a  river 
is  that  ?  anything  like  the  Shawshin  ?  How  that  name 
brings  back  old  times !  I  seem  to  see  you  and  Capron, 
as  you  met  Newman  and  me  day  after  day,  always 
with  the  same  benignant  smiles,  gracefully  doffing  your 
hats  as  we  passed.  Do  you  suppose  we  shall  ever  all 
meet  again  this  side  heaven  ?  What  a  blessed,  blessed 
hope  it  is  that  we  may  and  shall  surely  meet  there  at 
last.  Oh,  we  are  not  thankful  enough  for  the  many 
kindly  emotions  and  peaceful  expectations  which  Chris- 
tianity aifords  us. 

With  the  exception  of  a  short  interval,  when  he  gave 
private  tuition  to  the  ward  of  a  friend,  his  whole  time 
this  year  was  his  own,  and  was  spent  after  his  own  mind, 
in  diligent  study  and  in  such  occupations  as  I  have  inti- 
mated.    He  gave  most  attention  to   a  more  complete 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  103 

acquaintance  with  the  BibUcal  studies  of  the  previous 
year,  especially  Hebrew,  and  to  his  Tamil ;  but  the 
more  marked  characteristic  of  his  taste  was  the  extent 
of  his  general  reading.  He  seemed  to  devour  books, 
reading  with  great  rapidity,  —  too  fast  as  he  knew  for 
mental  digestion,  —  and  extending  his  inquiries  in  many 
directions.  It  is,  of  course,  no  criterion  of  a  man's 
scholarship  how  many  books  he  reads.  Attention  is 
drawn  to  this  phase  of  his  mental  growth,  as  indicating 
how  rapidly  he  had  outgrown  the  earlier  stage  of  in- 
differentism  toward  a  student's  occupation,  for  even  up 
to  graduation  from  college,  active  life  had  received  his 
first  attention.  It  was  his  missionary  purpose  which 
had  started  his  mind ;  the  same  purpose  governed  the 
growth.  At  first,  under  the  conviction  that  a  liberal 
education  was  essential  to  the  efficiency  of  a  missionary, 
he  had  begun  to  read  upon  subjects  of  which  he  was 
ignorant ;  now,  without  any  careful  calculation  of  the 
value  of  his  reading  for  the  special  end  first  proposed, 
he  was  led  by  interest  in  his  pursuits  to  a  far  more  va- 
ried course  of  reading  than  ever  he  would  have  been 
likely  to  pursue,  unprompted  at  the  outset  by  some  such 
special  end.  One  would  have  said  in  his  boyhood,  and 
even  in  his  college  days,  that  the  last  character  in  which 
he  would  appear  would  be  that  of  a  bookish  man,  and 
yet  he  had  now  become  so  much  of  a  book-lover  as  to 
be  touched  with  the  fever  of  making  a  perfect  library 
in  his  special  department  of  India ;  so  much  of  a  book- 
fancier,  indeed,  as  to  treat  his  books  as  playmates,  take 
them  from  the  shelves  to  dandle  and  to  feast  his  eyes 
upon  their  forms  and  dress. 

Two  writers    may  be  singled   out,  from  the  many 
whose   acquaintance    he    now  made  or   continued,   as 


104  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

especialty  his  favorites,  —  Thomas  Arnold  and  Isaac 
Taylor.  He  knew  Arnold,  as  he  is  known  to  most 
Americans,  chiefly  through  the  medium  of  Stanley's 
admirable  Life.  So  far  as  he  was  conversant  with  the 
accidents  of  Arnold's  position,  with  the  movement  in 
the  Church  of  England,  its  action  upon  Arnold's  mind, 
and  the  reaction  of  his  earnest  spirit  upon  it,  he  could 
appreciate  more  perfectly  the  character  thus  revealed ; 
but  an  interest  in  the  man  himself  existed,  and  always 
may  exist  apart  from  a  full  comprehension  of  the  man's 
surroundings.  Such  an  interest  David  felt  in  Arnold; 
it  was  in  fact  what  he  would  have  felt  in  himself,  could 
he  have  been  separable  from  himself,  for  he  was  at- 
tracted by  just  such  a  character  as  his  friends  discovered 
in  him.  It  has  been  noted  that  in  earlier  days  he  had 
read  John  Foster;  the  difference  between  these  two 
men  indicates  to  some  extent  the  difference  in  David's 
spiritual  affinities  at  the  two  stages  of  his  growth.  Then, 
in  the  maze  of  his  self-inquiry,  led  astray  into  gloomy 
introspection,  he  was  drawn  to  the  meditative  serious- 
ness which  characterizes  Foster  ;  such  words  of  sombre 
thought  as  met  him  gave  voice  to  his  own  unspoken 
emotions,  and  he  even  began  to  covet  the  life  of  a 
recluse.  Now,  escaped  from  the  entanglement  of  a 
disordered  conscience,  and  yet  honest  in  his  dealings 
w^ith  his  own  heart,  hasting  to  the  fulfilment  of  the 
great  work  which  enlarged  his  soul,  he  found  in  the 
earnestness  of  Arnold  a  counterpart  of  his  own  ideal 
excellence.  Just  these  two  classes,  the  serious  and  the 
earnest,  seem  to  divide  thoughtful  men,  and  we  have  to 
thank  Arnold  for  making  current  the  word  earnest^  and 
for  stamping  the  coin  with  his  own  image. 

The  writings  of  Isaac  Taylor  had  a  somewhat  similar 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  105 

charm  for  him,  since  they  corresponded  with  his  own 
natural  treatment  of  religious  topics.  The  catholicity 
of  his  mind  induced  an  exercise  of  charity  toward  all 
forms  of  belief  and  disinclined  him  to  prejudgment, 
while  his  habits  as  a  student  led  him  to  a  search  for  fun- 
damental principles  in  any  system.  This  temper  had 
been  confirmed  under  the  admirable  tuition  of  Dr. 
Hopkins,  who,  charged  by  some  with  an  over-cautious- 
ness of  mind,  showed  the  real  nature  of  his  caution  in 
dismissing  class  after  class,  impressed  with  his  habit  of 
careful  examination,  but  not  impressed  with  his  private 
opinions  upon  the  subjects  to  be  examined.  David 
found  in  Taylor  a  method  of  inquiry,  agreeing  with 
his  own  less  ambitious  method,  and  he  turned  to  the 
writings  of  that  author  for  a  completion  of  the  lines  of 
thought  upon  which  be  had  begun,  but  which  his  youth 
and  lack  of  erudition  forbade  him  to  follow  to  great 
lengths.  He  had  a  confidence  in  Taylor's  writings, 
which  was  no  doubt  in  great  measure  the  result  of  their 
agreeing  so  totally,  both  in  subject  and  manner  of  treat- 
ment, with  all  that  he  had  himself  applied  his  mind  to 
finding  out.  Hence  he  read  with  pleasure  anything  that 
he  could  lay  hold  of,  and  used  to  show  an  enthusiastic 
delight  as  he  discovered  one  after  another  half-forgotten 
work  of  that  voluminous  writer,  too  careless  of  his  own 
reputation. 

Though  more  of  a  student,  he  kept  his  old  love  for 
Nature,  and  daily  took  his  excursions  out  of  town  or 
about  the  city.  He  revisited  old  haunts.  "  Roxbury 
Neck  was  my  walk,"  he  writes,  "  where  I  brought  up 
on  Tommy's  Rocks.  Such  a  time  as  I  did  have  !  How 
old  Nep  came  back  !  Remember  that  pond  on  Akron 
Street,  just  before  you  enter  St.  James  from  Warren, 


106  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

with  steep  rocks  on  one  side  ?  and  how  Nep  one  day 
ran  right  down  their  face  ?  I  do.  And  don't  you  re- 
member how  there  used  to  be  springs  on  the  sidewalk, 
opposite  the  Warren  House  on  the  right  as  you  go  up 
the  street  ?  they  bubble  still !  and  that  pump  which  used 
to  be  chained  ?  chained  still !  and  the  reservoir  on  the 
Rocks  with  a  ball  on  top  ?  there  still !  "  He  explored 
Boston,  with  a  companion  if  possible,  but  generally 
alone.  He  loved  the  old  place  which  had  grown  so 
familiar  to  him ;  he  never  could  fairly  live  in  a  place 
without  carrying  off  in  his  memory  the  very  shapes  of 
houses  and  shops,  of  sign-boards  and  street-turnings. 
"You  must  always  be  ready  to  give  me  street-gossip," 
he  writes  from  India.  "  Are  any  new  buildings  going 
up?  How  does  the  block  in  Winthrop  Place  look? 
It  was  half  done  when  we  left." 

He  closed  this  year  of  intermission  by  a  summer 
jaunt  in  Connecticut,  and  went  as  usual  to  the  farm  in 
Wethersfield  where  he  had  worked  so  enthusiastically 
just  before  entering  college.  He  resumed  his  old  em- 
ployment, but  now  he  writes  :  —  "  Finishing  our  '  home 
lot '  is  quite  an  affair,  though  it  may  look  small  on  pa- 
per. They  began  the  day  I  came,  and  have  been  at  it 
ever  since.  Next  week  we  begin  on  the  meadow  hay, 
which  will  be  finished  in  about  two  weeks.  By  that 
time  I  shall  throw  up  my  hat  and  shoes,  used  up  de- 
cidedly, and  give  three  cheers  for  Wethersfield,  but 
nine  most  hearty  ones  for  good  old  Boston  and  for 
home.  After  all  I  was  n't  made  to  be  a  farmer.  I  have 
had  as  pleasant  a  time  as  I  could  ask  for  here,  but  .  .  . 
I  am  glad  I  was  not  called  to  this  life,  but  to  another." 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  107 


CHAPTER   VI. 

COMPLETION   OF   THEOLOGICAL   STUDY. 

[1857-1859.] 

In  September  1857  he  returned  to  Andover,  resum- 
ing his  studies  where  he  had  left  off  a  year  before. 
Two  years  remained  for  the  completion  of  systematic 
study,  and  he  entered  on  his  work  with  increased  en- 
thusiasm, for  India  seemed  to  be  only  waiting  for  these 
two  years  to  be  finished.  I  am  indebted  to  Rev.  Charles 
Ray  Palmer,  of  Salem,  Mass.,  for  an  account  of  David's 
life  during  this  time,  —  an  account  which  is  more  val- 
uable since  it  comes  from  one  previously  unacquainted 
with  him,  and  able  to  note  afresh  the  characteristics 
which  marked  him.  It  is  not  always  easy  to  know 
how  far  one's  estimate  of  a  brother's  character  or  at- 
tainments is  free  from  a  too  partial  consideration,  and 
I  gladly  avail  myself  of  this  friendly  testimony  to  fill 
out  the  sketch  of  David's  life  :  — 

"  My  acquaintance  with  your  brother  commenced  in 
September,  1857.  He  at  that  date  joined  my  class  in 
Andover  Theological  Seminary,  which  was  then  begin- 
ning its  Middle  Year.  We  had  known  one  another  bv 
name  before,  through  mutual  friends,  and  were  soon 
familiarly  associated,  I  believe  with  mutual  regard. 
Nothing  ever  happened  to  disturb  the  relations  so  estab- 
lished between  us,  and  my  satisfaction  with  him  as  a 
friend,  as  a  fellow-student,  and  as  a  Christian  brother, 


108  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

was  never  less  than  complete.  His  genial  fellowship  in 
the  pursuits  which  we  had  in  common,  his  talents,  good 
sense,  and  scholarship,  his  energy  and  thorough  enthusi- 
asm, —  partly  a  matter  of  temperament  and  partly  a 
result  of  the  habit  of  self-concentration,  —  and  above 
all  his  humble,  devout,  and  spiritual  piety,  marked  him 
at  once  in  my  estimation  as  no  ordinary  man,  and  speed- 
ily commanded  my  hearty  admiration  and  esteem. 

"  I  confess  to  a  feeling  of  doubtfulness  whether  any 
description  of  David  Scudder  can  be  written,  which 
would  give  to  those  who  never  saw  him  a  conception 
of  him  at  all  adequate.  He  was  truly  a  man  of  genius, 
and  a  man  of  genius  never  can  be  ranked  or  estimated. 
How  great  such  a  man  will  be,  if  he  lives,  none  can 
affirm  beforehand:  how  great  he  is,  is  vaguely  compre- 
hended by  his  contemporaries :  how  great  he  was,  the 
world  that  comes  after  looks  back  with  wonder  to  see. 
There  were  men  in  Scudder's  class  who  in  particular 
powers  excelled  him  ;  but  every  one  by  this  time  knows 
that  to  have  particular  powers  in  excellence  is  not  ne- 
cessarily to  be  a  remarkable  man.  There  were  others 
who,  upon  a  tutor's  books,  would  rank  as  more  uni- 
formly successful  in  reciting ;  but  every  one  knows  by 
this  time  that  it  is  not  in  the  tutor's  books  that  we  are 
to  look  for  the  data  to  determine  who  is  the  most  of  a 
man  in  a  class.  Of  just  that  peculiar  constitution  by 
temperament,  by  mental  qualities,  by  what  happy  influ- 
ences have  wrought  upon  natural  susceptibility,  and  by 
what  are  immanent  of  the  results  of  rapid  and  easy 
acquisition  from  manifold  sources  —  which  you  recog- 
nize at  once  as  rendering  the  person  in  whom  you  see 
it  certain  to  be  something  in  the  world  —  of  just  that 
which  for  the  want  of  a  better  name  we  call  genius^ 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  109 

David  Scudder  had  far  more  than  any  of  his  class.  I 
do  not  hesitate  at  all  to  say  this.  Looking  back  from 
this  point  of  time,  I  feel  more  confident  than  I  did  when 
we  were  toc^ether  that  he  was  the  man  of  whom  all 
discerning  observers  would  predict  success  more  posi- 
tively than  of  any  other. 

"  It  is  a  remark  of  Francis  Jeffrey  that  men  of  truly 
great  powers  have  generally  been  cheerful,  social,  in- 
dulgent ;  while  a  tendency  to  sentimental  whining  or 
fierce  intolerance  may  be  ranked  among  the  surest 
symptoms  of  little  souls  and  inferior  intellects.  No  one 
will  ever  recal  Scudder  but  as  the  very  embodiment  of 
sunny  good-nature,  so  free  and  abundant  in  its  mani- 
festations of  itself  as  to  be  almost  mirthfulness.  He 
had  indeed  not  only  '  the  habit  of  being  pleased,'  but 
a  habit  of  being  amused.  A  characteristic  passage  in 
a  letter  of  his  occurs  to  me :  speaking  of  the  first  im- 
pressions made  upon  him  by  sights  and  sounds  of  India, 
he  says,  — '  The  first  morning  that  I  walked  out  in  this 
new  land  I  fairly  ached  that  I  might  have  some  one  like 
you  to  nudge  and  have  a  good  laugh  with.'  It  was 
an  evidence  of  the  healthfulness  of  his  whole  being, 
that  while  he  keenly  entered  into  all  the  wrongs  and 
miseries  of  the  world  of  men,  and  was  burdened  with 
a  true  sympathy  with  the  suffering  from  any  cause,  he 
was  at  the  same  time  —  and  that  without  any  painful 
lack  of  dignity  —  as  keenly  alive  to  all  the  fun  that 
could  be  found  in  men's  follies  and  mistakes,  always 
appreciating  with  great  zest  everything  whimsical  or 
humorous. 

"  Yet  with  all  he  did  not  lack  that  part  of  the  tem- 
perament of  genius  which  renders  it  '  soft  as  the  air  to 
receive  impressions.'     He  was  sensitive,  he  was  even 


110  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

tender,  and  liable,  like  other  intense  natures,  to  periods 
of  depression.  This  was  at  any  rate  true  of  him  in 
college  and  in  the  seminary ;  I  know  both  from  testi- 
mony and  from  observation.  As  he  matured  in  Chris- 
tian living,  he  may  have  gained  a  greater  equanimity. 
I  remember  times  when  he  seemed  to  be  entirely  over- 
come of  the  '  blues ' ;  they  were  short  times,  but  while 
they  lasted  he  was  exceedingly  melancholy.  Few  I 
think  will  be  surprised  at  this.  It  is  tlie  inevitable  for- 
tune of  persons  who  are  the  most  of  the  time  wrought 
up  to  the  pitch  of  enthusiasm,  to  suffer  periodic  reac- 
tions from  a  physical  or  psychologic  necessity  —  reac- 
tions which  moral  treatment  will  not  reach.  Rest  and 
diversion  are  the  onlv  restoratives.  I  recollect  that 
David  was  greatly  comforted  once  by  my  telling  him 
something  like  this,  because  he  was  disposed  to  blame 
himself  for  ever  being  anything  but  cheerful. 

"  I  do  not  recal  anything  to  be  spoken  of  as  striking 
in  David's  student-life.  I  mean  in  the  restricted  sense 
of  the  term.  He  was  a  thorough  and  systematic  stu- 
dent, regular  in  his  attendance  upon  all  exercises.  He 
was  a  conscientious  member  of  the  seminary  —  which 
all  students  are  not.  He  never  manifested  that  con- 
tempt for  regulations  or  defiance  of  authority  which 
some  seem  to  consider  essential  to  their  manliness  ;  I 
believe  he  despised  it.  In  the  recitation-room  he  was 
always  well  prepared.  In  the  mutual  examinations  of 
Middle  Year,  under  the  Moderation  of  the  Professor, 
he  could  maintain  himself  under  the  sharpest  cross- 
firing,  as  many  able  men  cannot.  In  the  exercises  of 
criticism  in  Senior  Year,  he  showed  good  appreciative 
powers.  He  was  a  diligent  learner,  a  candid  and  vig- 
orous thinker,  and  though  steadfast  in  his  opinions,  a 


DAVID  COIT   SCUDDER.  Ill 

tolerant  opponent.  He  had  none  of  the  affectation  of 
independence  which  disgraces  some  Divinity  students, 
but  he  had  the  real  independence  which  too  many  lack. 
His  course  with  respect  to  the  seminary  curriculum  was 
most  characteristic.  He  never  forgot  what  he  was  to 
be  —  a  pioneer  missionary  in  India,  and  this  fact  deter- 
mined his  attitude  with  respect  to  the  different  depart- 
ments of  study.  In  the  study  of  the  sacred  languages 
he  was  zealous  as  might  be  expected.  He  acquired 
languages  readily,  and  was  an  excellent  linguist.  Sys- 
tematic Theology  he  gave  sufficient  attention  to,  but 
evidently  did  not  make  it  a  specialty.  He  was  much 
more  anxious  to  obtain  a  systematic  view  of  truth  which 
he  could  defend  against  Heathenism,  than  to  learn  the 
shibboleths  of  schools,  or  attract  notice  as  a  champion  of 
superexcellent  orthodoxy.  He  showed  no  keenness  to 
enter  into  the  polemics  of  Theology,  and  no  disposition 
to  identify  himself  with  a  Theological  party.  But  he 
did  desire  and  labor  to  attain  a  clear  understanding  of 
what  was  essential  to  a  Theological  system,  and  what 
was  the  substance  of  the  faith  once  delivered  to  the 
saints.  In  the  Rhetorical  exercises  of  the  seminary  he 
had  comparatively  little  interest,  perhaps  too  little ;  in- 
deed, after  graduation  he  confessed  as  much  to  me. 
The  explanation  was,  that  he  judged  that  for  the  science 
and  the  art  of  public  speaking  he  should  have  no  use  in 
India  whither  his  face  was  set.  It  was  a  fixed  purpose, 
therefore,  that  with  the  Rhetorical  Society  he  had  little 
or  nothing  to  do,  laughingly  refusing  the  solicitations 
of  '  the  embodiment  of  Rhetoric,'  as  he  jocosely  called 
the  President  of  the  society,  and  in  the  department  of 
Sacred  Rhetoric  he  bestowed  comparatively  little  effort. 
He  w^as  content  to  do  no  more  than  necessary  to  sat- 


112  LIFE  AND  LETTERS   OF 

isfy  the  claims  of  the  Professor.  On  the  other  hand, 
Ecclesiastical  and  Dogmatic  History  had  a  closer  con- 
nection with  his  future  work,  and  in  that  department 
he  was  a  very  diligent  student." 

It  must  be  added  to  this  statement  that  aside  from 
David's  judgment  as  to  the  comparative  value  of  his 
studies,  his  own  mental  bias  furnished  the  reason  for 
much  of  his  choice.  Abstract  truth  and  systems  of 
truth  were  not  in  themselves  attractive  subjects  of 
thought  with  him  ;  it  was  when  they  were  embodied  in 
some  concrete  form,  as  the  historical  for  instance,  that 
he  preferred  to  consider  them.  One  of  his  friends,  once 
meeting  him  on  a  walk  in  Andover,  noticed  that  he 
wore  a  very  lugubrious  expression,  and  stopped  him 
w^ith  —  *"  What  makes  your  face  so  long,  David  ?  " 
"  Oh,"  he  sighed,  "  I  am  thinking  up  my  creed."  With 
him  this  was  both  a  difficult  and  an  uncongenial  task  ;  his 
belief  was  positive  and  had  its  seal  in  earnest  operation, 
but  he  disliked  setting  his  belief  forth  in  its  dogmatic 
form.  Thought  found  its  expression  more  aptly  in 
practical  effort  than  in  rhetoric.  Even  his  letters  show 
this :  they  read  smoothly  where  he  is  dealing  with  inci- 
dent, but  the  moment  he  comes  to  any  statement  of 
feeling  or  of  opinion,  there  is  an  abruptness  as  if  he 
only  began  what  he  had  to  say  and  left  the  remainder 
to  be  inferred:  for  this  reason  there  are  few  letters 
written  by  him  in  America  which  I  have  thought  it 
worth  while  to  print ;  while  once  in  India,  his  letters 
become  most  admirable  interpreters  both  of  his  outer 
and  of  his  inner  life.  He  had  thought,  clear  and  deter- 
minate, but  he  lived  rather  than  wrote  it. 

The  studies  peculiar  to  his  own  work  were  prosecuted 


DAVID  COIT   SCUDDER.  113 

during  these  two  years  with  as  much  energy  as  his 
accumulating  tasks  would  allow.  He  foresaw  that 
Hindu  philosophy  would  demand  his  attention,  and 
before  any  very  close  research  into  its  mysteries,  he 
aimed  at  as  thorough  a  comprehension  of  the  history 
of  Occidental  philosophy  as  his  limited  time  would  per- 
mit, while  with  Orientalism  in  its  outward  form  he 
grew  daily  more  familiar.  The  Tamil  language  he 
continued  to  acquire,  and  in  connection  with  that  study 
entered  upon  more  careful  inquiry  into  the  philosophy 
of  language,  studying  some  of  the  more  attainable  re- 
sults of  Comparative  Philology.  He  was  fortunate 
in  beginning  Tamil  when  the  grammar  had  to  be  his 
chief  mode  of  access  to  the  language,  since  it  insured  a 
more  thorough  foundation  to  his  knowledge  of  the 
tongue,  and  by  the  kind  of  study  which  it  required 
gave  a  more  philosophical  character  to  his  early  inti- 
macy with  the  movements  of  the  Hindu  mind.  To 
make  the  acquaintance  of  any  language  through  famil- 
iar practice  alone  may  give  one  a  readier  use  of  the 
vernacular,  but  is  very  likely  to  operate  as  a  bai'rier 
against  an  acquaintance  with  the  thought  that  u.nder- 
lies  the  foundation  of  the  speech.  David  had  besides 
the  valuable  aid  of  Mr.  Hoisington,  who  was  able  to 
be  his  guide  both  in  the  familiar  use  and  in  the  more 
scientific  treatment  of  Tamil.  To  his  home  in  Con- 
necticut David  took  a  journey  as  often  as  was  practica- 
ble, and  found  in  him  something  more  than  a  guide  in 
scholarship :  he  formed  a  warm  friendship  with  him 
and  his  family,  so  that  when  in  the  spring  of  1858  Mr. 
Hoisington  died,  David  could  mourn  with  the  family 
the  loss  of  a  noble  Christian  friend,  who  had  been,  of 
inestimable  worth  to  him. 


114  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

If  when  connected  with  the  seminary  before  he  had 
been  marked  for  his  missionary  zeal,  he  took  now  a 
still  more  prominent  position,  and  was  at  once  identified 
most  closely  with  the  cause  of  missions.  Of  course  he 
was  in  his  place  among  the  Brethren,  and  was  the  soul 
of  that  little  company.  "  He  projected  himself  also," 
continues  Mr.  Palmer  in  his  letter,  "  with  characteristic 
energy  into  the  Society  of  Inquiry,  and  ultimately  the 
Monthly  Concert.  The  society  meetings  very  quickly 
showed  the  power  of  his  influence,  in  the  increasing 
attractiveness  to  all  earnest  men  in  the  Institution,  and 
in  the  greater  numbers  attending  them.  By  the  end 
of  the  Middle  Year  of  his  class,  so  entirely  was  he  rec- 
ognized as  the  leading  spirit  in  all  matters  connected 
with  the  objects  of  that  society,  that  he  was  elected  its 
President  for  the  year  following.  Besides  this  public 
workinoj  in  behalf  of  the  cause  of  missions  in  the  sem- 
inary,  he  labored  incessantly  in  the  opportunities  offer- 
ins  to  reach  individual  consciences  with  what  he  believed 
to  be  the  call  of  the  Master.  If  I  am  not  mistaken,  he 
privately  labored  with  every  member  of  the  class,  striv- 
ing by  every  means  to  interest  them  to  the  point  of 
feeling  personally  drawn  to  missionary  life,  and  with 
respect  to  several  he  was  entirely  successful.  To-day, 
though  he  sleeps  in  an  Indian  grave,  he  preaches  Christ 
through  more  mouths  than  one  or  two  in  dark  places  of 
the  earth.  Thus  '  his  works  do  follow  him.'  Nor 
were  such  efforts  confined  to  his  own  class.  By  similar 
methods  he  reached  others  to  whom  he  gained  access  in 
the  classes  below  him ;  and  when  he  had  done  all  in 
the  way  of  solicitation  that  he  could,  he  planned  still 
another  method.  By  means  of  his  official  position  in 
the  Society  of  Inquiry,  he  made  arrangements  for  a  dis- 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  115 

cussion,  at  one  of  the  monthly  meetings  of  that  society, 
of  the  question,  — '  On  what  principles  should  a  Chris- 
tian student  decide  to  what  field  of  labor  he  is  called  ? ' 
or  something  to  that  effect.  To  take  the  parts  of  this 
discussion  he  selected  two  who  had  decided  to  be  mission- 
aries abroad,  one  who  had  devoted  himself  to  the  West, 
another  whom  he  believed  to  have  conscientiously  de- 
cided that  his  duty  was  to  be  a  pastor  at  home,  and  two 
others  who  w^ere  still  undecided.  (I  give  the  details  as  I 
recollect  them  and  may  not  be  exact.)  When  he  had 
perfected  these  arrangements,  prayerfully  and  somewhat 
anxiously  he  awaited  the  result.  It  was  a  most  inter- 
esting discussion,  and  satisfied  his  expectations  in  itself 
considered ;  whether  it  accomplished  its  design  in  awak- 
ening consciences  which  he  believed  to  be  slumbering, 
I  have  no  means  of  knowing.  The  personal  influence 
which  he  exerted  by  all  these  methods  could  hardly  be 
overstated. 

"  One  thing  must  still  be  added,  or  this  feature  of  his 
life  at  Andover  will  not  be  appreciated.  The  seminary 
classes  are  very  unequally  constituted.  There  are  men 
fresh  from  college,  and  men  who  have  been  for  years 
teachers  in  various  positions,  and  men  from  other  avoca- 
tions in  life.  There  is  a  good  measure  of  friendliness 
between  these  widely  diftering  individuals,  and  more 
and  more  of  sympathy  grows  up  between  every  two, 
through  the  influence  of  their  association  in  prayer  and 
study,  but  as  a  rule,  the  younger  men  are  never 
appreciated  by  the  older  ones,  the  men  of  twenty- 
two  or  twenty-three  by  those  of  twenty-eight,  thirty, 
and  thirty-five,  and  are  often  made  keenly  to  feel 
that  they  are  not  appreciated.  But  Scudder  was  the 
youngest  of  all,  and  ever  conducted  himself  as  if  re- 


116  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

membering  the  fact ;  and  yet  he  commanded  the  respect 
of  all,  and  was  himself  a  power  over  all,  as  I  have  shown 
above." 

If  the  testimony  of  his  comrades  could  be  taken,  I 
think  that  additional  force  would  be  given  to  the  above 
statement.  David  was  the  last  person  to  allude  to  his 
own  success,  and  his  modest  bearing  forbade  any  im- 
pression of  that  pragmatic  importance  which  we  some- 
times attach  to  efficient  workers  in  a  confined  sphere. 
Yet  the  fact  remains  that  whereas  when  he  reentered 
the  seminary.  Middle  Year,  the  number  of  the  Brethren 
was  but  five,  that  number  increased  steadily  until  at  his 
graduation  it  was  twenty.  These  were  men  who  had 
definitely  decided  to  enter  the  missionary  work,  but  the 
missionary  spirit  may  justly  be  supposed  to  have  been 
more  widely  extended,  entering  into  the  character  and 
work  of  those  who  never  left  their  own  land.  It  is  not 
intended  to  refer  this  remarkable  increase  solely  to  the 
power  of  David's  personal  influence,"  but  Professors  and 
students  alike  knew  and  testified  that  he  was  the  mov- 
ing cause,  prominent  above  all  others.  He  believed  in 
individual  preaching,  and  applied  himself  with  great  tact 
and  industry  to  the  art  of  finding  out  the  best  method 
of  reaching  men.  One  of  his  brother  missionaries  gives 
an  instance  :  —  "  One  morning  he  told  me  of  his  plans 
to  interest  one  of  his  class,  —  a  musician  and  noted  lover 
of  music,  —  by  drawing  his  attention  to  the  intricate 
system  of  Arabic  music,  knowing  that  this  would  open 
a  door  to  frequent  conversations.  It  was  his  custom  on 
three  or  four  days  of  each  week  to  select  some  one  of 
his  own  or  another  class,  whom  he  thought  he  might 
influence,  and  make  him  a  companion  on  a  long  walk, 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  117 

in  which  the  subject  of  personal  consecration  to  mis- 
sionary work  was  one  of  the  topics." 

His  fertile  mind  conceived  another  mode  of  creating 
a  general  interest  in  missions,  which  with  three  other  of 
his  classmates  at  Andover  he  carried  into  execution,  — 
a  series  of  papers  in  the  "  New  York  Independent,"  in- 
tended to  present  principles  as  the  most  valuable  form  of 
appeal.  The  subjects  of  his  contributions  to  the  series 
were  "  Reform  in  Missions,"  *'  Return  to  the  Principles 
of  the  Early  Church,"  "  Christian  Missions  and  Chris- 
tian Beneficence,"  and  '*  The  Family  a  Missionary 
Nursery."  This  last  paper  contained  his  favorite  views, 
then  occupying  much  of  his  attention,  upon  the  matter 
of  interesting  and  educating  children  in  the  mission 
cause,  a  matter  which  will  more  fully  be  treated  of 
hereafter.  It  need  hardly  be  added  that  he  continued 
his  correspondence  with  such  of  the  missionary  breth- 
ren as  had  entered  upon  their  fields  of  labor.  He  wrote 
gladly  to  them  for  the  love  he  bore  them,  and  because 
thus  only  could  he  most  fervently  give  expression  to 
his  pent-up  desires.  "  Dear  Capron,"  he  writes,  *'  how 
I  could  cry  for  verv  loncrino;  to  see  you  and  have  a  good 
talk  like  old  times.  When  discouraged,  I  go  back  of 
the  cemetery  where  you  told  me  that  your  throat  was  so 
bad  that  you  feared  you  could  not  go.  God  was  better 
to  you  than  your  fears.  He  will  be  to  me."  The  fol- 
lowing are  extracts  from  a  letter  to  Mr.  Dean,  of  Satara : 

Andover,  June  7,  1859. 

"  We  have  just  had  one  of  our  delightful  meetings 
of  the  Brethren  here  in  my  room,  the  room  where 
Obookiah  once  lived,  and  where,  tradition  says,  he  first 
began  to  live   the  new  life.     We  number  now  some 


118  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

twenty  members,  and  good  substantial  ones  too.  To- 
night we  are  feeling  that  we  have  not  been  doing 
enough  for  our  brethren  outside,  and  I  hope  we  may 
the  rest  of  the  term  pray  and  labor  more  assiduously  to 

interest  them  in  missions Dear  Dean,  by  the 

time  this  letter  reaches  you,  I  shall  be  about  leaving 
this  sacred  place,  which  has  become  endeared  to  me  by 
so  many  precious  associations.  As  I  look  back,  how 
the  thouo-hts  do  whirr  around  me.  You  and  C.  walk- 
ing  side  by  side  around  Indian  Ridge ;  all  those  little 
meetings  in  C.'s  room  and  that  little  company  of  '  be- 
lievers.' Precious  days  they  were,  were  n't  they  ?  And 
they  are  all  gone,  and  days  of  equal  joy  since  known 
will  soon  follow  in  their  train.  How  the  future  does 
look ;  bright,  yet  not  wholly  so,  for  many  a  dark  river 
must  be  crossed  before  we  reach  the  end  of  our  way. 
As  I  write  these  words,  the  remembrance  of  your  calm, 
quiet  confidence  comes  before  me  and  really  does  re- 
fresh my  mind.  Yes,  as  I  was  saying  to  a  dear  mis- 
sionary brother  to-day  who  had  met  with  a  sad  cross  in 
his  path,  —  as  we  were  walking  back  of  the  cemetery, — 
here  is  the  hill  that  I  like  to  visit  when  despondent,  for 
here  one  day  C.  talked  with  me,  and  said  he  feared  his 
throat  might  prevent  his  going  to  India  ;  and  now  he 
is  there,  fairly  at  work.  Begone  dull  doubt  and  wel- 
come faith.     You  in  India.     Capron  too.    Winchester 

in   Turkey  ;    but  at  home Is  it  a  year 

since  I  wrote  you  last !  Another  year  would  God  I 
might  write  you  from  Madura !  " 

During  these  two  years  he  was  in  the  habit  of  spend- 
ing Sunday  at  home,  for  the  sake  of  his  Swedish  class 
and  his  neighborhood  meeting.     It  was  a  new  life  in 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  119 

the  household  when  Saturday  noon  came  and  brought 
with  it  David,  bustling  with  the  glow  of  return,  full  of 
questions  and  anecdotes,  and  hurrying  away  after  din- 
ner to  libraries  and  bookstores  on  his  many  errands. 
Monday  morning  he  was  off  again  with  his  bundles, 
returning  to  seminary  with  a  similar  eagerness,  making 
everybody  who  came  in  contact  with  him  partake  of 
his  good-natured  cheeriness.  I  close  this  chapter,  which 
I  have  intended  chiefly  to  contain  the  testimony  of  his 
friends,  with  a  letter  from  his  classmate,  Rev.  J.  M. 
Sturtevant,  Jr.,  of  Hannibal,  Missouri,  premising  that 
it  anticipates  mention  of  a  journey  taken  to  the  West, 
a  year  later :  — 

"  To  me  the  most  striking  trait  in  David's  character 
was  his  earnestness,  and  it  was  not  only  that  earnest- 
ness of  voice  and  manner,  that  enthusiasm  about  trifles 
which  made  him  seem  rough  and  eccentric  to  me  when 
I  first  met  him,  but  which  afterward  became  one  great 
charm  of  his  society,  —  he  was  in  earnest  about  every- 
thing he  turned  his  attention  to,  but  not  equally  in  ear- 
nest on  all  subjects.  His  feelings  increased  in  depth 
while  they  grew  more  quiet  in  their  manifestations  as 
the  theme  rose  in  dignity.  This  pecuHarity  of  his  char- 
acter made  him  an  enigma  to  many.  He  seemed  so  full 
of  life  and  enthusiasm  on  ordinary  themes,  and  so  quiet 
when  the  most  sacred  themes  were  touched,  that  few 
suspected  the  depth  of  his  religious  feelings.  I  can  truly 
say  that  I  never  saw  a  man  who  had  more  of  what  Dr. 
Arnold  calls  moral  earnestness.  His  morbid  habit  of 
introspection  made  him  often  distrust  the  sincerity  of 
his  own  religious  emotions,  but  no  one  who  had  an  in- 
timate acquaintance  with  him  could  doubt  for  a  moment 


120  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

that  they  were  of  the  deepest  and  most  fervent  charac- 
ter. His  intense  individuality  made  direct  personal 
appeal  to  others  a  hard  undertaking  for  him.  Perhaps 
most  persons  who  have  long  been  in  the  habit  of  think- 
ing and  judging  for  themselves  find  something  of  the 
same  troubles.  Personal  appeal  does  not  seem  to  them 
best  calculated  to  be  useful  to  them,  and  they  doubt 
their  power  to  make  it  useful  to  others.  But  while  he 
shrank  from  it,  he  longed  to  seize  this  and  all  other 
means  of  promoting  the  kingdom  of  Christ.  If  any  one 
had  called  at  the  room  of  a  fellow-student  for  personal 
religious  conversation  and  he  knew  it,  no  matter  how 
late  it  was,  he  never  would  retire  to  rest  until  he  had 
heard  the  result  of  the  conversation. 

"  Perhaps  my  most  vivid  recollections  of  him  cluster 
around  two  conversations.  One  occurred  one  Sabbath 
at  Andover.  There  was  quite  a  revival  of  religion  in 
Phillips  Academy.  Our  meetings  all  day  had  been  full 
of  interest ;  until  very  late  I  had  an  inquiry-meeting  in 
my  room  to  which  God  in  his  mercy  had  sent  several 
members  of  my  Bible-class  to  ask  the  way  of  life.  At 
last  quite  exhausted  I  was  left  alone.  In  my  sense  of 
weariness  and  helplessness  my  thoughts  turned  at  once 
to  David.  I  seemed  almost  too  tired  to  pray  more,  but 
I  would  go  to  his  room,  quite  sure  to  find  him  still  up, 
and  he  would  calm  me  with  one  of  his  earnest,  heart- 
felt prayers,  and  then  I  would  return  to  my  own  room 
to  sleep.  Often  had  I  felt  amid  the  storms  of  a  very 
uneven,  a  very  inconsistent  Christian  life,  that  I  would 
give  everything  to  possess  that  simplicity  and  straight- 
forwardness which  so  pervaded  David's  religion.  Guess 
my  surprise  when,  on  my  asking  him  to  pray  with  me, 
he  replied  with  a  burst  of  emotion  such  as  I  had  never 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  121 

before  known  him  to  exhibit,  '  I  can't !  you  must  pra}' 
for  me.'  And  then  he  went  on  to  lament  his  lack  of  sin- 
cere religious  emotion,  almost  wishing  that  he  had  been 
a  more  wicked  man  that  he  might  know  greater  heights 
and  depths  of  religious  feeling.  His  humility  humbled 
me  more  than  many  reproofs  could  have  done,  and 
though  he  knew  it  not,  he  certainly  was  the  best  teacher 
for  me  that  nio;ht. 

"  The  other  conversation  was  impressive  chiefly  for 
the  circumstances  under  which  it  took  place.  I  can 
hardly  give  you  an  idea  of  its  details  in  this  short 
compass.  He  was  just  about  to  leave  me,  after  a  short 
visit  at  this  place,  and  we  never  expected  to  meet  again 
in  this  world.  We  were  walking  upon  the  bold  bluff 
just  below  the  town,  about  two  hundred  feet  above 
the  river  which  ran  at  our  feet.  We  talked  of  old 
times,  pleasant  scenes  never  to  return,  but  bright  in  our 
memories  as  the  sunshine  of  that  fair  summer  day ;  and 
then  our  thoughts  w^ent  forward  into  the  future,  and  we 
laughed  with  almost  boyish  glee  over  some  of  his  funny 
fancies  as  to  what  might  be,  and  then  we  grew  more 
sober  as  we  thought  of  that  world-wide  separation,  and 
talked  of  the  mystery  of  that  Providence  which  had 
destined  us  to  such  remote  positions,  and  had  probably 
appointed  us  equally  dissimilar  experiences.  Then  we 
talked  of  that  eternity  beyond,  to  wdiich,  by  wdiatever 
path,  we  were  both  bound  as  surely  as  the  waters  at 
our  feet  were  gliding  toward  the  ocean.  We  reasoned 
thus  until  all  our  earthly  life  which,  while  we  talked 
of  its  varied  possibilities  and  all  its  depths  of  feeling, 
seemed  like  a  great  sea  before  us,  was  like  the  Mis- 
sissippi at  our  feet,  narrowed  to  our  vision,  by  the 
height  from  which  we  looked,  to  a  mere  belt  across  the 


122  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

landscape,  and  the  heavenly  land  seemed  as  real  and  as 
near  as  the  bluffs  gleaming  in  the  sunshine  miles  away 
across  the  river,  where  we  could  just  catch  on  their 
summits  the  signs  of  an  inhabited  country,  and  on  the 
very  horizon,  faintly  drawn,  the  spires  of  a  distant  city. 
So  we  parted,  but  I  never  shall  forget  that  glimpse  of 
the  heavenly  land.  The  narrow  belt  was  narrower  for 
him  than  I  thought ;  crossing  the  river  and  entering 
the  city  of  God  came  sooner  than  I  expected.  I  pray 
that  even  as  we  talked  that  morning  we  may  meet  ere 
long  in  that  land  whose  rivers  will  not  always  make  us 
think  of  death,  and  whose  hills  will  dwell  in  everlasting 
sunshine, '^ 


DAVID  COIT   SCUDDER.  123 


CHAPTER   Vir. 

ORIENTAL   STUDIES. 
[1859-1861.] 

When  David  left  the  seminary,  it  was  with  the  ex- 
pectation of  sailing  for  India  in  the  autumn  of  the  year 
following;  this  expectation  was  not  realized,  various 
unforeseen  delays  occurring  which  kept  him  in  the  coun- 
try till  the  early  spring  of  1861.  He  remained  during 
this  interval  in  Boston,  at  his  father's  house,  occupied 
with  work  which  by  degrees  came  to  look  almost  ex- 
clusively Indiaward.  In  the  seminary  and  previously 
he  had  followed  various  lines  of  study  bearing  upon 
India,  and  the  result  was  a  growing  familiarity  with 
Hindu  speech,  literature,  philosophy,  history,  and  man- 
ners, but  —  except  in  his  study  of  Tamil  —  he  had  not 
investigated  any  subject  with  that  strictness  which  he 
desired;  his  prescribed  tasks  and  various  occupations 
forbade  him  to  give  more  than  his  spare  hours  to  India. 
Now,  master  of  his  own  time,  he  turned  with  avidity 
to  the  books  which  he  had  been  collecting,  and  made 
the  study  of  them  his  chief  employment.  The  eighteen 
months,  which  elapsed  between  his  leaving  Andover 
and  his  departure  for  India,  found  him  going  deeper 
and  deeper  into  the  mysteries  of  Hinduism ;  his  inter- 
est thus  concentrated  impelled  him  to  more  thorough 
research  into  a  few  subjects  than  would  have  been  pos- 
sible had  many  occupied  his  time.  His  own  library 
and  the  library  of  the  Oriental  Society  at  New  Haven, 


124  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

together  with  the  public  and  private  collections  in  Bos- 
ton and  Cambridge,  furnished  him  with  material,  and 
in  the  confined  department  of  Hindu  literature,  as  in- 
troduced by  English,  French,  and  German  scholars,  he 
thought  that  he  had  used  pretty  much  all  to  which  he 
could  gain  access. 

It  is  an  example  of  the  educating  power  inhering  in 
a  great  purpose,  once  possessing  the  soul,  that  my 
brother  should  at  last  have  been  brought  to  a  kind  of 
work  so  foreign  from  his  mental  constitution.  It  is  an 
example  also  of  the  broad  foundation  upon  which  the 
very  purpose  rested  in  his  mind,  that  his  habit  of  meas- 
uring study  by  its  practical  value  in  his  career  did  not 
lead  him  to  set  aside  the  investio;ation  of  the  abstruse 
philosophy  of  India  as  not  germane  to  his  work.  The 
abstruseness  did  not  attract  him,  although  his  active 
mind  found  pleasure  in  such  alien  speculations  to  a  de- 
gree that  never  would  have  been  predicated  from  quite 
recent  observations ;  it  was  the  bearing  of  the  work 
upon  his  future  labors  which  gave  it  a  hold  upon  his 
interest.  He  found  it  not  always  easy  to  pursue  this 
course,  since  he  was  not  always  sustained  in  it  by  the 
judgment  of  his  missionary  friends.  Yet  the  predilec- 
tion of  Mr.  Hoisington  for  these  studies  had  influenced 
him  quite  strongly  in  his  choice  of  them. 

He  gave  increased  attention  also  to  the  study  of 
Tamil,  and  had  the  valuable  assistance  of  Rev.  Edward 
Webb,  a  missionary  of  the  Madura  District,  who  was 
at  the  time  in  America.  During  this  period  his  let- 
ters to  missionary  friends  give  some  insight  into  the 
character  of  his  studies.  One  of  these  friends.  Rev. 
George  T.  Washburn,  of  Battalagundu,  Madura  Dis- 
trict, India,  had  been  a  college  and  for  a  while  a  semi- 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  125 

nary  classmate  ;  a  common  purpose  and  destination  had 
brought  them  together,  and  their  intercourse  at  Ando- 
ver  had  been  characterized  by  a  very  full  interchange 
of  sentiment  upon  matters  relating  to  their  expected 
labors  in  India ;  and  Mr.  Washburn  preceding  David, 
correspondence  followed  upon  the  same  topics,  until 
they  were  reunited  in  India ;  from  David's  share  in 
this  correspondence  I  am  able  to  give  a  more  familiar 
statement  of  his  opinions  upon  his  Oriental  studies 
than  could  be  gained  otherwise. 

He  found  it  most  easy,  natural,  and  agreeable  to  his 
purpose  to  throw  the  results  of  his  study  into  some  writ- 
ten form,  and  accordingly  there  remain  three  or  four 
essays  and  series  of  essays,  containing  proofs  of  his 
industry  and  indications  of  his  attainments.  The  first 
of  these  w^as  the  series  of  papers  to  which  he  alludes  at 
the  close  of  the  followino;  extract :  — 

[to    rev.    GEORGE    F.    HERRICK.] 

Boston,  Oct.  28,  1859. 
....  By  the  time  you  receive  this,  you  will  I 
presume  have  found  your  way  about  the  great  city 
[Constantinople].  What  a  dream  you  must  be  in  — 
for  what  amazing  feelings  will  such  a  city  force  upon  a 
student  of  church  history.  I  feel  as  if  in  thought  I 
could  share  the  excitement  with  which  you  draw  near 
your  future  home.  But  I  don't  much  like  to  think  of 
it,  nor  of  any  of  our  fellows  who  are  favored  like  you. 
It  makes  me  discontented.  I  burn  to  be  off,  and  feel 
that  only  the  grace  of  God  can  keep  me  from  unworthy 
chafing.  But  I  am  sure  that  my  post  is  here  for  the 
present,  and  I  do  really  praise  God  when  I  see  any  one 
take  his  leave  of  home.  Blessed  privilege  !  God  grant 
that  I  may  soon  share  it. 


126  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

You  have  long  pronounced  me  incorrigible.  Every- 
body must  now  coincide  in  your  view.  My  morning  is 
spent  on  Tamil  grammar,  my  afternoon  on  Ancient 
Hindu  history,  my  evening  on  British  Indian  history. 
The  first  I  mean  to  work  steadily  at ;  I  love  it  and  it 
loves  me.  The  last  I  must  finish  this  winter,  and  as  to 
the  other,  I  may  as  well  tell  one  of  the  four  that  I  am 
getting  ready  to  write  a  set  of  papers  on  Ancient  Indian 
Literature,  as  illustrative  of  Hindu  character  in  gen- 
eral, hoping  to  show  the  noble  capacity  of  the  race. 

These  papers  were  published  in  the  "  Boston  Re- 
corder," a  weekly  religious  journal.  They  were  twelve 
in  number,  and  limited  of  course  to  a  very  brief  and  — 
from  the  manner  of  the  publication  —  disjointed  exposi- 
tion of  the  subject,  but  well  adapted  to  the  object  for 
which  they  were  written,  to  give  an  interesting  summary 
of  Hindu  literature  in  its  chronoloo-ical  order,  for  the 
purpose  of  indicating  the  capacity  of  the  race.  It  may 
be  observed,  too,  that  the  ability  to  present  the  subject 
so  concisely,  and  yet  in  so  lively  a  fashion,  supposes  a 
power  of  mastering  the  study,  higher  in  character  than 
that  which  merely  undertakes  to  record  at  length  the 
same  results  of  investio-ation. 

In  the  two  following  letters  he  alludes  to  his  study 
of  Tamil,  indicating  the  sort  of  interest  which  he  con- 
tinued to  take  in  linguistics  apart  from  the  practical 
value  of  which  the  Tamil  speech  was  to  be  to  him :  — 

[to    rev.  GEORGE   F.  HERRICK.] 

Essex,  Conn.,  June  11,  1860. 
....  It  has  afforded  me  not  a  little  pleasant  thought 
of  late  to  see  how  closely  you  and  I  are  to  be  connected 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  127 

in  our  missionary  labors.  Whilst  you  are  attempting  to 
stammer  out  the  message  from  above  in  a  speech  which 
laughs  at  all  order,  after  the  English  sort,  and  which 
calls  upon  a  man  to  deglottize  himself,  so  I,  in  my  poor 
way,  shall  attempt  the  same  after  the  same  fashion. 
For  if  you  will  notice,  Tamil  alike  with  Turkish  be- 
longs to  that  class  of  Agglutinative  languages  so  utterly 
at  variance  with  Indo-European  speech.  I  have  been 
studying  a  South  Indian  Comparative  grammar  of  late, 
and  have  been  struck  with  the  remarkable  analogies 
therein  drawn  out  between  two  languages,  geographi- 
cally so  separate.  But  poor  fellow  I  to  think  of  you 
sweltering  not  merely  under  the  load  of  one  tongue,  so 
diametrically  opposed  to  inborn  notions  of  what  speech 
should  be,  but  even  forced  to  hoist  on  to  your  aching 
back  another  language,  belonging  to  still  another  class. 
And  what  can  I  say  for  the  poor  unfortunates  of  the 
Persian  hills,  who,  as  Dr.  Perkins  tells  me,  if  they 
w^ould  learn  Persian  well,  must  also  dig  out  Arabic  and 
Turkish  ?  It  seems  like  attempting  to  obliterate  the 
traces  of  Babel  thus  to  shoulder  three  languages,  the 
types  of  the  three  great  families  of  tongues.  I  with 
my  simple  Tamil,  may  well  flatter  myself. 

[to    rev.  GEORGE    T.  WASHBURN.] 

Boston,  July  27,  1860. 
....  Perhaps  you  remember  that  when  you  left 
I  was  at  work  about  the  Hill  Tribes  of  India,  as  the 

remnant  of  the  aborigines.     The  essay  is  done 

I  trace  the  earliest  notices  of  aboriginal  races  in  the 
Hindu  books,  then  give  a  sketch  of  all  that  now  seem 
allied  to  them,  gathered  from  Travels  and  Oriental  Mag- 
azines, closing  with  a  brief  statement  of  the  present 


128  LIFE  AND  LETTERS   OF 

opinion  respecting  their  affinities,  judged  from  their 
speech.  Its  novelty  at  least  will  not  be  denied.  So 
you  have  read  "  Ancient  Sanskrit  Literature  "  (Miil- 
ler).  I  need  not  ask  you  whether  you  enjoyed  it,  for 
so  rich  a  treat  you  could  not  but  enjoy.  Since  you  left, 
the  Boden  Professorship  at  Oxford  has  been  made  va- 
cant by  the  death  of  Wilson!  Three  rivals  compete 
for  the  chair,  Miiller,  Monier  Williams,  the  author  of  a 
Sanskrit  Grammar  and  English  and  Sanskrit  Lexicon, 
and  Dr.  Ballantyne,  of  Benares.  I  trust  Miiller  will 
get  it,  for  then  we  may  count  upon  his  more  undivided 
attention  to  the  study.  Jos.  Mullens  has  published 
a  book  which  shares  a  prize  with  a  similar  treatise  by 
Ballantyne,  called  "  Christian  Aspects  of  Hindu  Phi- 
losophy." I  do  not  however  set  a  very  high  value 
upon  it.  I  take  it  that  while  Mullens  may  be  a  good 
statistician,  he  can  be  but  an  indifferent  metaphysician. 
Moreover  he  is   not  a  student  at  first  hand,  I  judge, 

whereas  Ballantyne  is I  have  laid  out  a  course 

of  study  upon  Hindu  Philosophy ;  have  got  a  host  of 
little  books,  aphorisms  of  the  different  schools,  and  be- 
gin to-morrow  on  the  Sankya  Philosophy.  Whether 
my  courage  will  endure  to  the  end  I  dare  not  predict, 
but  I  question  much.  Any  study  in  that  direction, 
after  leaving  the  country,  must  of  course  be  limited 

and  what  I  do  must  be  done  now Tell  it  not  in 

Madura,  I  have  begun  Sanskrit.  I  got  Oppert's  gram- 
mar in  French,  commendable  for  its  brevity  at  least, 
and  am  now  at  work  scratching  unsightly  marks  sup- 
posed to  represent  sounds.  I  do  not  expect,  at  present 
at  least,  to  more  than  peep  into  it,  but  I  thought  that  a 
slight  acquaintance  with  the  principles  of  its  grammar 
might  aid  me  in  studying  Tamil,  and  especially  in  the 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  129 

use  of  such  works  as  "  Caldwell's  Comparative  Gram- 
mar," where  Sanskrit  is  ever  referred  to  for  illustration. 
Perhaps  I  may  carry  it  on  at  intervals  hereafter.  It 
will  be  a  pleasing  diversion. 

The  essay  referred  to  in  the  last  letter  appeared  in 
the  "  Bibliotheca  Sacra  "  for  October,  1860,  under  the 
title  "  Aborigines  of  India."  When  that  was  completed 
and  published,  the  day  of  departure,  which  he  had  been 
anticipating  might  be  earlier,  was  set  for  the  following 
February  or  March,  and  the  question  arose  in  his  mind, 
how  the  intervening  time  should  be  occupied.  The 
necessary  preparations  for  departure,  a  proposed  jaunt 
to  the  West,  and  his  various  plans  for  interesting  the 
churches  in  the  missionary  enterprise,  seemed  to  him. 
insufficient  for  fully  occupying  his  time,  and  thus- ward- 
ing off  that  impatience  and  worry  which  he  knew  would, 
get  hold  of  him.  He  decided  to  give  more  close  atten- 
tion to  a  subject  which  he  had  long  been  engaged  upon 
in  a  fragmentary  way,  —  a  systematic  view  of  Hindu 
Philosophy.  He  wished  for  his  own  sake  to  reach  a 
more  determinate  knowledge,  and  no  work  of  which 
he  knew  covered  the  ground  which  he  proposed  to  oc- 
cupy; the  prospect  of  producing  a  work,  really  worthy 
as  a  matter  of  scholarship,  and  supplying  a  desideratum 
in  Oriental  studies,  gave  zest  to  his  intention,  and 
though  harassed  with  numberless  calls  upon  his  time, 
he  worked  diligently  and  perseveringly,  completing  his 
task  but  a  short  time  before  sailing.  The  essay  was 
published  in  the  "  Bibliotheca  Sacra,"  under  the  title  of 
"  A  Sketch  of  Hindu  Philosophy,"  appearing  in  two 
parts  in  the  numbers  for  July  and  October,  1861.  The 
following  letter  is  in  reference  partly  to  this  essay,  and 


130  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

in  reply  to  certain  doubts  expressed  by  bis  correspond- 
ent, whether  it  were  worth  while  to  devote  unusual  at- 
tention to  subjects  that  after  all  had  little  direct  bearing 
upon  the  missionary  work,  which  was  to  be  bestowed 
almost  exclusively  upon  the  degraded  classes.  "  I  hope 
you  will  keep  on  studying,"  he  writes ;  "  I  don't  think 
we  know  too  much  about  Hinduism  in  its  higher  forms. 
Only  don't  expect  that  such  knowledge  is  going  to  be 
any  great  direct  missionary  agency  to  the  people." 

[to   rev.  GEORGE   T.  WASHBURN.] 

Boston,  Nov.  23,  1860. 
....  One  would  hardly  think  perhaps  that  I  was 
following  the  suggestion  of  your  letter,  could  one  see 
me,  day  after  day,  poring  over  Yoga,  Nyaya,  and  Vaise* 
shika  schemes  of  thinking.  But  do  not  think  I  misun- 
derstand you.  I  liked  your  remarks  ;  they  fell  in  with 
and  gave  expression  to  thoughts  which  had  been  float- 
ing in  my  own  mind  in  the  shape  of  questions.  I  do 
not  like  to  speak  too  strongly.  I  am  not  inclined  to  be 
over-confident  as  to  my  success  as  a  missionary.  Still, 
I  have  a  tolerably  correct  conception  of  what  a  mission- 
ary life  should  be.  If  I  come  short  of  reaching  my 
ideal,  that  is  another  matter.  I  do  feel  this,  —  a  long- 
ing desire  to  get  my  general,  wishy-washy  notions  of 
Hinduism  some  substantial  bottom.  I  don't  believe 
there  is  another  system  of  faith,  or  rather  congeries  of 
discordant  systems,  to  be  found  under  heaven  that  will 
compare  with  that  of  India.  An  inane  jumble  of  fact 
and  fiction,  myth  and  history,  religious,  metaphysical 
and  superstitious  notions.  Such  Hinduism  certainly 
appears  to  a  novice.  I  feel  uneasy  until  I  grasp  some 
few  principles  or  facts  which  may  serve  to  attract  about 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  131 

tliem  the  varied  phases  of  faith  that  India  presents.  I 
think  the  chaos  is  becoming  less  '•'•  voidic''''  to  me.  We 
need  to  bear  in  mind  the  great  ethnological  fact  of  the 
presence  in  India  of  at  least  two,  and  most  likely  three 
separate  races  or  classes  of  race,  and  the  relative  posi- 
tion they  hold  to  one  another.  We  need  further  to 
bear  in  mind  the  radical  difference  between  the  two, 
that  one  is  a  savage,  the  other  a  cultivated  people; 
that  the  latter  exhibits  not  one  phase,  but  several  phases 
or  stages  of  growth,  and  that  while  these  have  risen 
and  fallen  away  in  succession,  many  of  their  results 
are  undoubtedly  existing  in  the  civilization  of  to-day ; 
the  religious  history  of  the  latter  race  we  may  be  able 
to  trace,  but  that  of  the  former  is  a  wellnigh  hopeless 
mass  of  inconsistencies. 

Now  the  Philosophical  period  was  a  most  important 
one,  and  cannot  be  passed  over  in  a  study  of  Hinduism. 
Indeed,  next  to  the  Vedic,  it  is  the  most  important,  and 
with  reference  to  this  era  has  no  rival.  As  a  student 
of  general  history,  aside  from  all  questions  of  mission- 
ary life,  I  should  be  justified  in  studying  it ;  as  a  stu- 
dent of  India  life,  of  course  I  must.  I  fully  believe  that 
I  am  denying  myself  much  gratification  in  the  pursuit 
of  this  theme  by  going  to  India.  Were  I  to  remain 
here,  I  should  expect  to  do  far  more  in  this  and  cognate 
studies  than  I  can  possibly  do  at  home  \i.  e.  India 
home].  I  agree  with  you  that  the  brunt  of  the  work 
for  us  is  of  a  different  sort.  Still  I  flatter  myself  that 
I  may  be  able  to  bring  to  light  some  data  for  others' 
investigation  while  I  am  in  India,  and  what  acquaint- 
ance I  have  now  with  these  topics  may  prove  of  advan- 
tage in  preventing  me  from  throwing  away  time  in 
directions  which  would  be  valueless. 


132  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

I  have  a  notion  that  I  shall  be  interested  in  gather- 
ins  tocrether  customs  and  beliefs  of  the  lower  castes 
whom  we  meet,  to  see  if  I  can  trace  any  systematic 
belief  which  will  serve  to  stand  as  an  outline  of  faith 
held  previous  to  Arian  immigration.  What  do  you 
think  ?  As  to  philosophy,  you  know  enough  of  me  to 
know  that  I  am  in  no  sort  of  danger  of  making  or  try- 
ing to  make  use  of  my  knowledge  of  systems  in  meet- 
ing a  Hindu.  I  hardly  know  enough  to  wield  an 
English  or  an  Aristotelian  syllogism,  —  to  say  nothing 
of  the  Hindu  Nyaya's  five-membered  conceit.  The 
fact  is  patent,  however,  that  five  hours  a  day  do  I  plod 
my  weary  w'ay  through  Sankya,  Yoga,  and  Nyaya  ;  not 
v^^eary  way  either,  for  I  enjoy  it.  I  am  now  running 
through  the  six  systems  and  giving  a  syllabus  of  each. 
Next  I  am  to  study  the  historical  connection  of  all,  and 
weave  them  into  an  essay  in  chronological  order,  stating 
the  occasion  of  their  rise,  progress,  and  present  position. 
I  hope  to  get  ready  a  couple  of  long  essays  for  the 
"  Bibliotheca  Sacra "  before  I  leave.  I  have  all  the 
material  nearly  that  is  to  be  had  in  English.  You  say 
you  have  sent  for  Mullens's  book.  I  have  it.  I  have  a 
dim  idea  that  you  have  Ballantyne.  Mullens  as  a  phi- 
losopher is  not  worth  a  straw ;  but  his  book  is  worth 
having,  as  it  gives  the  best  general  compend  of  the  dif- 
ferent systems.  He  is  much  more  full  than  Ballantyne 
in  stating  the  facts,  and  draws  almost  wholly  from  Bal- 
lantyne's  little  translations.  Ballantyne  makes  the  Ny- 
aya philosophy  his  standpoint  of  logic  in  his  duties  as 
preceptor  of  Hindus.  And  we  Westerners  certainly 
have  more  sympathy  with  Gotama  than  with  any  other 
Hindu  sage.  In  his  conception  of  God  he  is  nearer  the 
Christian  than  anv  of  his  fellows. 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  133 

A  rich  and  rare  book  is  out,  —  No.  II.  of  Muir's 
"  Original  Sanskrit  Texts."  His  object  is  to  convince 
the  Hindus  that  their  fathers  came  from  beyond  the 
Indus  and  are  connected  with  Persians,  Greeks,  &c. 
The  argument  is  no  new  one  to  us,  but  in  his  rigid  dis- 
cussion of  it,  he  marslials  a  host  of  facts  on  the  dialects 
of  North  India,  the  course  which  the  Arians  took  in 
entering  India,  and  their  relation  to  their  kindred  and 
to  the  aboriginal  tribes.  His  first  part  meets  the  Hindu 
on  his  own  o-round  and  shows  from  the  contradictions 
in  his  own  books  that  caste  is  a  modern  invention  ;  that 
the  Brahmans  are  not  divine,  and  so  forth.  Two  more 
volumes  are  promised :  one,  historical  proof  of  origin 
of  caste ;  the  other,  illustrations  of  earliest  life  and  re- 
ligion.    Hurrah  ! 

This  evening  I  propose  to  visit  the  Public  Library. 
In  the  ''  Journal  de  Savants  "  is  a  review  by  M.  Bar- 
thelemy  St.  Hilaire  of  Max  Miiller's  "  History  of 
Sanskrit  Literature."  St.  Hilaire  is  a  sort  of  general 
Hindu  scholar,  who  has  distinguished  himself  by  his 
memoirs  on  the  Sankya  Philosophy,  the  very  sight  of 
which  is  enough  to  make  one  vow  never  to  be  a  phi- 
losopher, if  so  much  paper  is  to  be  spent  in  his  dissec- 
tion. But  I  want  to  see  what  the  Frenchman  has  to 
say  upon  Miiller.  You  know  I  presume  that  Miiller 
and  Monier  Williams  are  rival  candidates  for  the  vacant 
Boden  Professorship.  The  contest  will  soon  be  decided, 
and  most  likely  in  favor  of  Miiller.*  He  surely  is  the 
more  learned  man  of  the  two.  I  have  however  a 
high  respect  for  Williams.  I  have  just  bought  and 
begun  his  Sanskrit  grammar.  I  want  to  get  hold  of 
the  grammar,  not  expecting  to  do  any  more.    I  like  his 

*  It  was  so  decided. 


134  LIFE  AND   LETTERS  OF 

far  better  than  the  French  grammar  of  Oppert  which 

Professor  suggested    to    me.       Oppert   is    too 

brief  and  condensed :  Williams  does  not  presume  upon 
any  previous  familiarity.  He  is  fond  also  of  tracing 
evident  analogies  between  Sanskrit  and  western  lan- 
guages. 

Do  you  know  what  you  are  asking  for  when  you  re- 
quest me  to  buy  Bopp  ?  Have  you  ever  seen  it  ?  if 
not,  you  are  an  innocent  child.  The  sight  of  its  learn- 
ing is  to  me  appalling  ;  if  you  have,  I  wonder  at  your 
self-confidence  at  presuming  to  wish  you  had  it  now. 
However  I  shall  get  it  on  the  strength  of  your  word, 
and  because  I  should  have  got  it  without  that  too,  —  as 
a  book  of  reference  at  some  future  day.  I  presume  one 
can  with  dainty  fingers  pick  out  a  morsel  here  and  there, 
Jack-Horner-like.  You  speak  of  works  on  Compara- 
tive Philology  in  general.  The  best  book  undoubtedly, 
of  such  a  cast,  is  Miiller's  "  Languages  of  the  Seat  of 
War."  Have  you  it?  I  forget.  Its  comparison 
of  Turkish  and  Tamil  is  very  striking  and  pleasing. 
You  speak  of  Bunsen.*  I  have  hesitated  long  about 
that  book.  I  have  read  and  reread  it.  Miiller  you 
know  contributes  the  portion  on  the  Turanian  Re- 
searches.     That  includes  Tamil,  but  M.  M.  does  n't 

know  hoo  about  Tamil.     Professor told  me  that 

he  wouldn't  give  a  snap  for  the  essay,  but  even  he  is 
inclined  to  derive  Dravidian  lanojuag-es  from  Sanskrit ! 
Yet  he  and  any  one  could  see  that  Miiller's  theorizing 
was  upon  a  very  rickety  foundation,  and  some  of  his 
erroneous  results  Caldwell  points  out.  What  I  think 
the  essay  most  valuable  for  is  the  history  of  researches 
in  this  direction,  and  his  original  and  valuable  remarks 

*  Philosophy  of  Universal  History. 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  135 

upon  the  Sanskrit  portion  of  his  theme.  Perhaps  for 
this  object  the  essay  is  worth  having,  but  the  book  is 
costly.  The  other  essays  in  the  volume  (always  ex- 
cepting Brother  Bunsen's  vagaries)  are  valuable.  I 
wish  we  could  get  the  one  volume  of  linguistics  sepa- 
rate, and  leave  off  the  baseless  applications  to  the  Phi- 
losophy of  History  by  the  doughty  chevalier. 

The  discoveries  which  he  had  begun  to  make  for 
himself  in  this  field  served  to  stimulate  search  and  to 
make  him  desirous  of  more  thorough  inquiry  into  many 
questions  which  his  work  suggested.  He  looked  with 
a  half-regret  to  the  departure  which  was  to  bring  to  a 
close  this  extended  study ;  he  felt  that  his  scholarly  in- 
stincts were  growing  keener,  and  that  if  permitted  to 
follow  their  lead  he  might  achieve  worthy  results.  It 
was  but  a  half-regret,  nor  would  he  have  been  easily 
content,  if  circumstances  had  required  him  to  remain 
longer  in  America,  even  though  the  stay  were  to  give 
him  unbounded  opportunity  of  study.  It  was  work  of 
another  sort  which  lay  nearer  his  heart,  and  to  this  he 
looked  with  more  ardent  desire. 

[to   a   classmate   in   GERMANY.] 

Boston,  once  more,  Feb.  4,  1861. 
Your  letter  has  long  lain  on  my  table,  pressed  down 
by  many  another  and  sighing  for  relief.  The  time  has 
come  at  last,  —  the  time  of  doing  the  last  things,  of 
winding  up  affairs,  of  putting  one's  house  in  order.  I 
have  kept  you  waiting  purposely,  determined  to  write 
you  when  I  knew  somewhat  certainly  when  I  should 
leave  this  semi-barbarous  land  for  the  professedly  savage 
country  of  my  choice.    Answering  letters  is  my  job  for 


136  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

a  week  to  come  and  yours  comes  first,  first  in  time  and 
first  in  worth.  Let  me  thank  you  for  it  most  heartily. 
I  enjoyed  it  hugely,  and  so  has  many  another,  D.  in- 
cluded, and  W.  shall.  How  these  names  link  together 
the  wide  world !  You  toasting  your  mental  limbs  by 
German  hearths,  G.  W.  cooling  himself  off  by  copious 
draughts  of  Brahmanic  philosophy,  D.  lazily  drinking 
in  Chitty  and  Coke  in  Cambridge,  and  your  penman 
absorbed  in  saucepans,  boxes,  bedsteads,  and  all  the  ap- 
purtenances of  tropical  housekeeping. 

....  Oh,  how  I  should  like  to  sit  by  you  in  your 
snuggery,  and  have  a  wholesome  chat  over  men  and 
things.  I  rarely  have  such  nowadaj^s ;  and  to  think 
of  sending  you  such  a  scribble  as  this.  Well,  I  shall 
soon,  please  God,  be  in  my  place  in  the  breach  and  try- 
ing to  do  my  part.  I  dread  it  of  course,  and  the  more, 
as  so  novel  to  me.  In  my  better  hours  I  rejoice,  and 
I  daily  pray  for  a  long  life  for  me  and  mine.  I  love 
India  with  all  my  heart,  and  long  to  do  somewhat  for 
her  regeneration I  think  often  of  you  in  Ger- 
many, and  wish  I  might  be  with  you,  though  I  fear  I 
should  desert  Tholuck  and  Miiller  for  Bopp,  Weber, 
Lassur,  and  Roth,  and  dive  into  philology  and  Indian 
archaeology  rather  than  theology  and  church  history. 
How  delightful  it  is  to  study.  I  have  begun  Sanskrit, 
and  shall  work  hard  at  Tamil  on  shipboard. 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  ^37 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

ENTERPRISES  — LAST  MONTHS  IN  AMERICA. 
[1859-1861.] 

During  the  last  year  of  the  seminary  course  David 
had  occasionally  preached,  after  the  custom  of  theologi- 
cal students,  and  while  at  home  awaiting  his  departure, 
he  took  what  opportunities  offered  for  practice  in  this 
labor.  He  did  not  regard  sermonizing  as  of  much  im- 
portance in  his  case,  since  work  abroad  would  admit  so 
little  of  the  sort  of  preaching  employed  at  home ;  the 
half  dozen  sermons  which  he  wrote  are  characterized 
by  the  philosophical  element,  so  frequent  in  students' 
discourses,  and  pervaded  with  his  spirit  of  moral  ear- 
nestness ;  he  added  to  the  force  of  his  sermons  by  his 
impressive  delivery,  which  borrowed  little  from  the 
rules  of  oratory,  but  was  instinct  with  his  personality, 
tender,  solemn,  whole-hearted.  One  sermon  received 
unusual  attention  from  him  as  embodying  his  views 
respecting  the  missionary  work,  and  containing  the 
grounds  of  his  own  confident  belief  that  it  was  the 
highest  form  of  Christian  activity.  The  character  of 
the  sermon  is  indicated  in  the  following  letter:  — 

[to  rev.  j.  m.  sturtevant,  jr.] 

Falmouth,  Mass.,  Feb.  23,  1860. 
....  I  have  just  written  up  to  the  conclusion  of  a 
missionary  sermon,  my  first  one.     It  is  a  missionary 
sermon,  but  not  exclusively  a  foreign  missionary  one. 


138  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

Indeed  I  fancy  that  I  have  hit  upon  a  way  of  pre- 
senting Christian  duty,  which  is  somewhat  new  to  me 
and  seems  also  plausible  and  fair ;  my  sermon  would, 
I  am  sure,  suit  you,  at  least  as  regards  its  catholic 
spirit ;  it  is  not  much  more  foreign  than  home.  My 
text  is,  —  "  As  my  Father  hath  sent  me,  even  so  send 
I  you,"  one  which  I  long  since  chose.  The  one  thing 
which  marks  it  is  the  position  that  all  such  divisions 
of  the  field  as  Home  and  Foreign  are  really  nothing 
more  than  convenient  geographical  distinctions ;  that 
the  Scriptures  and  Christ  recognize  but  one  grand  divis- 
ion, —  "  the  world  "  and  "  not  of  the  world  "  ;  that  all 
Christian  work  either  is  self-culture  or  aggressive  en- 
terprise, and  that  the  latter  aims  at  the  whole  field, 
called  in  Scripture  "  the  world,"  all  which  is  not  Christ's 
by  actual  possession ;  so  that  all  work  which  is  aggres- 
sive is  by  its  very  idea  foreign  and  essentially  one^ 
whether  labor  for  unconverted  neighbors,  western  mis- 
sions, or  labor  in  healhen  lands.  The  argument  of  the 
sermon  is,  that  there  is  no  reason,  either  in  Scripture 
or  common  sense,  why  a  man  should  cease  his  labor 
at  any  given  point  in  this  one  field,  but  on  the  other 
hand  everything  points  him  to  the  daty  of  laboring  in 
all  his  work  for  the  evangelization  of  the  whole.  I  try 
to  show  it  by  appealing  to  Christian  instinct  as  corrob- 
orated by  the  idea  of  a  Christian  life,  —  self-sacrifice,  — 
and  to  History  which  shows  that  the  church  has  pros- 
pered according  as  it  has  admitted  this  or  not.  What 
do  you  think  ?  I  wish  I  could  read  it  to  you  in  num- 
ber seventeen,  Phillips  Hall. 

....  Do  you  remember  Thompson's  anniversary 
address  before  the  Porter  Rhetorical  Society?  You 
have  seen  it  though,  I  presume,  in  the  last  "  Congrega- 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  139 

tional  Quarterly."  He  is  called  missionary  to  Persia, 
which  he  requested  them  not  to  mention.  I  might  be 
an  advocate  for  Congregationalism  if  in  the  West,  but 
as  you  say  you  accept  it  because  it  is  needed  at  the 
West,  so  I  imagine  if  you  were  to  be  in  India  you 
might  feel  that  some  other  form  than  pure  Congrega- 
tionalism would  better  fit  into  the  present  phase  of 
society.  At  least  so  I  theorize ;  how  I  shall  think 
when  I  get  there  I  don't  know,  but  I  believe  that  no 
Procrustean  bed  should  be  received  as  the  bed  for  all 
Christians  to  repose  upon.  I  did  not  agree  with  Thomp- 
son at  the  time,  but  for  Persia  I  can  believe  it  may 
better  suit,  as  more  manliness  and  independence  of 
thought  can  there  be  found. 

The  chief  advantage  which  he  sought  from  preach- 
ing was  the  opportunity  it  afforded  him  of  visiting  new 
places.  Wherever  he  went  he  was  known  as  one  soon 
to  enter  upon  the  foreign  field,  and  he  threw  all  the 
weight  of  his  personal  presence  and  influence  into  the 
enterprise  of  awaking  new  interest  in  the  work  of  mis- 
sions. He  always  appreciated  the  value  of  personal 
association,  and  knew  that  every  one  whom  he  inter- 
ested in  himself,  he  interested  likewise,  to  various  ex- 
tent, in  the  cause  which  he  represented.  It  is  with 
children  that  this  personal  association  is  most  weighty, 
and  with  them  David  employed  it  most.  Reference 
has  been  made  to  his  habit  in  the  seminary  of  talking 
to  Sunday-schools  and  to  juvenile  missionary  societies. 
He  began  in  a  small  way,  carrying  a  few  images  of 
Hindu  gods  and  telling  stories  out  of  the  sacred  books 
about  them,  connecting  his  talk  with  the  efibrt  which 
the  children  were  making  to  send  the  truth  to  the  wor- 


140  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

shippers  of  these  very  idols.  He  repeated  his  stories 
in  different  places,  and  as  he  gained  in  familiarity  with 
the  work,  he  studied  more  carefully  the  structure  of  his 
discourse.  He  had  attained  a  confidence  in  addressing 
children,  and  was  now  able  to  make  experiments  ;  what 
had  been  a  simple  talk,  suggested  by  the  images,  began 
to  assume  the  shape  of  a  speech,  studiously  contrived 
with  reference  to  the  working  of  a  child's  mind,  was 
altered  and  remodelled  as  new  experience  supplied  him 
with  better  forms.  All  this  was  for  the  simple  and 
general  purpose  of  awaking  a  vivid  interest  among 
children,  and  of  providing  them  with  a  more  correct 
understanding  of  the  object  at  which  they  were  aiming. 
This  latter  purpose  soon  showed  him  that  the  chil- 
dren were  at  a  disadvantage  from  the  want  of  some 
specific  end ;  when  they  gave  their  contributions  it  was 
to  objects  too  large  for  the  grasp  of  their  minds.  He 
felt  this,  and  the  result  was  a  scheme  for  turning  the 
contributions  of  children  into  a  special  channel,  —  the 
support  of  schools  connected  with  missions.  The  Board 
of  Missions  had  taken  up  the  matter  with  care,  making 
inquiry  of  those  best  qualified  to  advise,  and  David 
eagerly  entered  the  same  field ;  he  wrote  for  sugges- 
tions to  missionaries  and  to  Sunday-school  officers,  and 
became  absorbed  in  the  subject  which  ever  afterward, 
as  indeed  it  had  previously,  held  a  large  place  in  his 
mind.  His  share  in  the  work  consisted  in  addressing 
schools  wherever  he  could,  inducing  them  to  pledge 
themselves  each  to  a  yearly  subscription,  adequate  to  the 
support  of  a  school  in  the  Madura  mission,  in  return 
for  which  he  promised  a  quarterly  letter,  having  special 
reference  to  the  schools  thus  supported.  His  plan  also 
embraced  the  occasional  support  of  a  native  preacher 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  141 

by  some  school  desirous  of  making  larger  contribu- 
tions. To  maintain  a  school  required  a  yearly  outlay  of 
twenty-five  dollars  ;  to  provide  a  pastor,  one  of  eighty 
dollars ;  in  the  latter  case  he  promised  a  special  letter. 

In  consequence  of  this  plan  he  modified  his  address 
to  children,  introducing  considerable  matter  respecting 
native  schools  in  India,  and  after  repeated  delivery  he 
moulded  his  address  into  a  form  from  which  he  found 
no  reason  to  deviate,  excepting  that  he  always  introduced 
it  in  a  novel  manner,  catching  his  inspiration  most  hap- 
pily from  the  occasion.  Long  familiarity  with  Hindu 
life  gained  by  research  and  by  reading,  by  intercourse 
with  missionaries  and  by  correspondence,  made  him  per- 
fectly at  home  upon  the  subject,  so  that  the  effect  upon 
his  hearers  could  hardly  have  been  different  if  he  had 
really  been  in  India  ;  so  at  least  it  seemed  when  he  was 
speaking,  though  doubtless  had  he  ever  returned  to 
America  after  a  stay  in  India,  he  would  have  brought 
a  new  element  into  his  address  ;  his  manner  was  so 
confident  and  his  utterance  so  rapid  and  fervid  that 
many  were  astonished  to  find  a  "  returned  missionary  " 
so  very  young.  I  am  sorry  that  no  notes  remain  by 
which  the  address  which  he  finally  came  to  deliver 
could  be  reproduced,  since  I  feel  sure  that  even  sepa- 
rate from  the  force  which  his  personal  presence  gave  to 
it,  there  existed  a  real  power  in  the  admirable  adapta- 
tion of  its  matter  and  language  both  to  the  comprehen- 
sion of  children  and  to  the  excitement  of  permanent  in- 
terest. Still  the  moving  force  was  in  the  person  himself, 
standing  on  the  platform,  ruddy  with  youth  and  glowing 
with  earnestness,  which  kindled  as  he  went  on,  flushing 
his  cheek  and  making  his  voice  to  grow  more  eager  and 
impetuous.     I  think  the  impression  left  was  of  a  most 


142  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

happy  sort ;  his  words  were  free  from  any  appeal  to  a 
morbid  horror  or  sympathy,  always  healthy  and  cheer- 
ful. There  was  a  directness  about  them,  an  honesty 
which  children  like,  establishing  at  once  a  personal 
friendship  between  him  and  them,  as  they  would  crowd 
around  him  afterward  to  examine  the  pahn-leaf  book, 
stylic  knife,  and  Tamil  Gospel  of  John  which  he  used  to 
ilhistrate  his  speech  ;  the  idols  he  had  given  up. 

The  appreciable  result  of  these  efforts  was  the  secvir- 
ing  of  forty  schools,  increased  afterward  to  sixty,  pledged 
to  maintain  the  same  number  of  schools  abroad,  besides 
the  support  of  a  native  pastor.  But  the  result  in  the 
wide-spread  interest  which  he  created  in  himself  and  in 
his  work  cannot  be  estimated.  Often  was  he  touched 
with  the  simple  expressions  of  affectionate  interest  which 
his  words  drew  from  children.  Like  himself  when  a 
child,  little  boys  came  forward  and  said  they  were 
going  to  India.  Wherever  he  went  he  left  behind  wit- 
nesses to  his  power  in  children  who  could  not  forget  his 
zeal,  and  whom  he  animated  with  a  similar  purpose. 
It  was  not  a  mere  momentary  interest  which  he  excited, 
because  his  appeal  was  not  one  to  the  emotions  alone ; 
he  furnished  children  with  plans  of  work  and  lasting 
incentives,  so  that  the  natural  result  of  his  addresses 
was  active  enterprise  and  not  mere  sympathetic  inter- 
est. In  the  days  when  he  was  thus  engaged  instances 
of  this  effect  of  his  speaking  were  constantly  coming  to 
notice,  too  simple  perhaps  to  be  recorded,  but  affording 
the  strongest  evidence  of  his  power.  May  it  be  that 
years  hence  some  will  be  found  who  shall  remember  his 
personal  presence  and  find  in  it  an  impulse  to  mission- 
ary labor,  even  as  he  ever  kept  in  mind  the  few  words 
and  more  forcible  image  of  the  aged  Doctor  Scudder. 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  143 

In  connection  with  this  labor  among  the  children 
should  be  mentioned  a  package  of  children's  tracts,  — 
"  Tales  about  the  Heathen,"  —  published  for  him  by 
the  Tract  Society  in  Boston,  containing  several  of  the 
stories  which  he  used  to  weave  into  his  address.  They 
afford  an  excellent  illustration  of  his  manner  of  treating 
such  subjects.  The  following  passage  from  a  letter 
shows  another  favorite  project  which  he  always  hoped 
to  carry  out :  — 

[to    rev    GEORGE   T.  WASHBURN.] 

Boston,  Nov.  23,  1860. 

....  Now  about  your  proposal  of  a  history  of  each 
mission.  I  like  it.  I  thought  of  it  awhile  and  almost 
made  up  my  mind  to  write  a  history  of  Bombay,  Ma- 
dura, and  Ceylon  Missions,  but  upon  second  thought, 
I  concluded  that  such  a  sketch,  to  be  good  for  anything, 
must  be  something  more  than  bare,  skeleton  history, 
and  would  necessarily  include  descriptions  of  places, 
scenes,  people,  and  customs ;  and  that  such  a  sketch 
prepared  by  a  stranger  would  be  jejune  and  materially 
defective.  I  have  accordingly  dropped  Bombay  and 
Ceylon  from  my  plan,  and  have  put  it  down  in  my 
memorandum-book  as  something  to  be  done  in  India,  — 
to  prepare  such  a  story  of  Madura.  I  know  well  that 
my  hands  will  be  full  of  business,  but  I  am  so  convinced 
of  the  thorough  need  of  such  a  work,  I  love  the  task 
so  much,  and  it  is  so  comparatively  facile  work  to  me, 
that  I  shall  indulge  the  hope  of  being  able  to  accom- 
plish the  design.  Mr.  Dulles's  book  certainly  does  not 
cover  the  same  ground,  while  it  will  give  me  aid. 

....  I  think  there  might  be  prepared  a  history  of 
missions  which  could  be  studied  just  as  the  Acts  of  the 


144  LIFE  AND   LETTERS   OF 

Apostles  is  studied.  No  inspired  man,  to  be  sure,  would 
pen  the  narrative,  the  narrative  itself  would  lack  the 
divine  sanction  in  any  special  form,  and  lack  the  power 
of  the  divine  mind ;  yet  the  acts  of  our  modern  apos- 
tles are  in  a  sense  equally  important  with  those  of  early 
days.  We  should  be  familiar  with  them,  and  they  ought 
to  be  studied  in  the  Sunday-schools. 

It  is  hard  to  enumerate  the  manifold  forms  of  his 
unceasing  activity.  He  was  not  only  keenly  aliv^e  him- 
self, but  he  inspired  all  with  whom  he  came  into  contact 
with  something  of  the  same  energy.  His  father's  house 
durino;  those  eiohteen  months  was  the  scene  of  constant 
excitement.  David  shared  his  plans  so  freely  with  the 
family,  that  it  might  be  said  they  spent  their  time  in 
hearing:  or  in  tellino;  some  new  thino;.  He  set  others  to 
work,  and  indeed  it  was  hard  to  stand  idle  when  one 
was  present  w4io  worked  so  incessantly.  From  week 
to  week  he  was  about  his  business,  —  preaching,  plan- 
ning, scheming  to  interest  people  in  missions,  holding 
neighborhood  meetings,  talking  to  children,  inquiring 
into  educational  systems  with  reference  to  his  future 
labors,  attending  medical  lectures,  for  he  took  a  partial 
course  in  Medicine  though  with  no  likino;  for  it,  read- 
ing,  writing,  sending  long  letters  to  correspondents  and 
letters  to  religious  journals  on  missionary  topics,  on  the 
watch  for  everything  likely  to  increase  knowledge  or 
interest  in  missions,  so  that  at  the  outbreak  of  the 
Druses  he  prepared  and  delivered  an  admirable  address 
on  the  subject,  and  in  the  midst  of  his  multiform  labors, 
finding  time  to  explore  the  mystery  of  the  six  systems 
of  Hindu  Philosophy,  and  to  reduce  to  order  his  accu- 
mulated knowledge. 


DAVID  COIT   SCUDDEK.  145 

But  though  busily  occupied  while  thus  detained  in 
America,  his  thoughts  flew  across  the  sea  to  the  land 
which  he  longed  to  reach.  His  very  occupations  con- 
stantly reminded  him  whither  he  was  bound,  and  more 
than  once  did  he  give  way  to  despondency  as  the  day 
of  his  departure  w^as  still  kept  distant.  His  friends, 
some  of  whom  perhaps  were  leaving  under  his  influ- 
ence, sailed  one  after  another  to  different  parts  of  the 
world ;  he  entertained  them  at  his  home,  —  indeed, 
scarcely  was  one  sent  on  his  way  before  another's  ap- 
proach was  heralded ;  he  helped  them  in  their  prepara- 
tion and  watched  them  from  the  wharf  as  they  sailed 
ofl*  on  their  errand,  while  he  turned  away  reluctantly ; 
with  a  melancholy  jest  he  would  liken  himself  to  the 
captain  who  saw  all  on  board  before  he  himself  made 
ready  to  follow,  and  so  he  gave  vent  often  to  his  long- 
ing in  impassioned  words  to  brother  missionaries  who 
had  been  blessed  as  he  had  not  been. 

[to    rev.  GEORGE    T.  WASHBURN.] 

Essex,  Conn.,  Jan.  20,  1860. 
So  you  are  at  last  fairly  staggering  on  India's  coral 
strand !  How  do  things  look  ?  Did  you  have  a  pleas- 
ing time  on  those  Masullah  boats  ?  Are  the  natives 
oily  ?  Did  they  come  out  to  you  on  their  catamarans  ? 
Were  you  wet  ?  How  does  Madras  look  ?  What  kind 
of  a  place  is  Popham's  Broadway  ?  Fairly  ashore  !  Oh 
for  the  fancy  of  a  De  Quincey,  the  pen  of  a  Macaulay, 
both  of  whom  are  dead,  that  I  might  indulge  myself. 
I  can  but  say  —  fairly  ashore  !  and  such  phrases  as  are 
fit  I  must  leave  to  others  less  in  earnest,  less  interested. 
For  w^ouldn'tl  give  a  small  sum,  could  I  but  be  trudg- 
ing by  your  side,  gazing,  like  a  raw  Yankee,  as  I  am,  at 

10 


146  LIFE  AND  LETTERS   OF 

sights  and  sounds  I  Is  it  hot  ?  I  don't  know  what  to 
write.  What  sort  of  a  mood  are  you  in  and  how  shall  I 
suit  it  ?  You  must  let  me  into  all  the  changes  of  feel- 
ing possible,  so  that  I  shall  know  how  to  feel  one  of 
these  days,  because  you  see  if  I  don't  have  some  rule 
to  go  by,  I  fear  I  shall  get  unmanageable.  George,  I 
Avas  walking  out  this  morning,  and  my  feelings,  my 
longings  for  a  sight  and  a  touch  of  India  were  such  as 
could  find  comfort  only  in  outspoken  prayer  to  God. 
I  lay  upon  the  rocks  and  thought  of  you  —  away  off  on 
the  blue  sea  —  and  my  whole  being  leaped — impatient. 
I  prayed  aloud  to  God  that  he  would  not  detain  me 

long  in  this  foreign  land And  you  are  really 

there  !  Do  you  feel  the  crowds  around  you  ?  Are  you 
impressed  with  the  fact  of  your  being  in  a  land  whose 
history  is  so  dark  ?  that  these  swarthy  ones  love  not 
God  ?  or  do  they  pass,  come  and  go,  with  no  more  im- 
pression upon  you  than  the  throngs  in  our  cities  ?  I 
can't  bring  myself  to  feel  that  this  letter  is  to  be  read 
by  one  greedy  for  news  rather  than  sentiment. 

[to  the  same.] 

Boston,  April  2, 1860. 
....  And  so  I  am  to  imagine  you  just  now,  where? 
that  big  blot  which  so  disfigures  the  page  expresses  my 
ideas  on  the  subject,  although  I  presume  you  are  by 
this  beating  up  to  Madras.  I  have  a  chart  of  Madras, 
so  that  Mr.  Hunt  will  not  need  to  come  down  to  escort 
me  to  his  house.  I  can  find  Popham's  Broadway  with- 
out him.  Do  they  have  any  ice-cream  saloons  ?  on 
Mount  Road  ?  Even  if  you  could  not  get  a  veritable 
piece  of  ice,  why  would  it  not  be  a  good  plan  to  prom- 
enade up  and  down  the  Ice-House  Road  and  snuff  the 


DAVID  COIT   SCUDDER.  147 

fancied  breezes  ?  The  very  name  of  the  road  has  some- 
thing refreshing,  like  the  dinking  of  ice  against  the 
pitcher  on  a  hot  day. 

....  I  preached  in  Nantucket  a  few  Sundays  since 
and  had  a  pleasant  visit.  I  v^^ent  over  to  the  south 
shore,  where  there  was  nothing  but  water  between  me 
and  the  other  side,  and  scratched  my  name  in  Tamil  on 

the  sand  and  thought  of  you  in  India I  have 

bought  a  set  of  the  Asiatic  Researches  which  I  hope  to 
place  in  the  Madura  library.  I  find  myself  in  danger 
of  being  much  absorbed  in  these  pursuits.  Were  I  to 
remain  here,  I  should  delight  in  nothing  more  than  in 
such  study  ;  but  as  it  is,  I  am  weary  of  this  and  feel  the 
need  for  spiritual  sake  of  shutting  up  my  books  and 
shipping  for  Home  as  soon  as  possible.  I  feel  it  impos- 
sible to  maintain  a  live  Christian  character,  when  one 

is  not  engaged  in  practical  work  for  God How 

did  you  bear  your  voyage  ?  What  a  blessed  thing  your 
first  letter  will  be,  but  how  much  more  the  next  shake 
of  your  hand.  Blessed  day !  pray  that  it  may  come 
soon.  With  love  to  all  I  know,  to  all  I  don't  know, 
to  Dindigal  Rock,  to  Madura  Walls,  and  to  the  first 
glossy  Hindu  that  you  see,  and  wishing  I  were  never 
to  write  you  from  America  again,  I  actually  am 

D.  C.  S. 

In  the  autumn  of  1860,  when  he  could  look  more 
definitely  to  an  early  departure,  he  took  a  journey  to 
the  West,  going  as  far  as  to  cross  the  Missouri  River 
at  St.  Joseph's  to  say  he  had  stood  on  Kanzas  soil,  and 
returning  home  by  St.  Louis,  Louisville,  Mammoth 
Cave,  Cincinnati,  and  New  York.  The  following 
extracts  are  from  a  series  of  letters  produced  by  the 
journey  out :  — 


148  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

Niagara  Falls,  Oct  11,  1860. 

I  have  seen  it !  I  am  now  ready  to  depart  home.  I 
have  seen  It,  and  what  else  is  worth  looking  at  ?  As  I 
write,  weary  from  constant  walking,  the  roar  of  the 
cataract  is  ever  present,  like  the  rolling  of  ocean-surf, 
only  less  inconstant.  Many  travellers  aver  tliat  at  first 
sight  they  are  disappointed.  Whether  from  being  on 
my  guard  against  such  an  undesirable  impression  or 
not,  the  contrary  was  the  case  with  me ;  one  thing  is 
certain,  that  my  first  feeling  was  of  higher  grade  than 
my  previous  imagination,  and  the  impression  deepened 
as  I  looked  and  looked. 

Upon  first  seeing  the  tower  which  overlooks  a  portion 
of  the  Fall,  I  had  the  same  feeling  that  I  had  many 
years  since  when  first  looking  upon  Connecticut  River 
from  Mount  Holyoke.  How  much  it  looks  like  the 
picture  I  So  thought  I  this  morning.  I  think  the  famil- 
iarity, which  we  derive  from  pictures,  with  the  main 
features  of  the  scene  is  rather  a  disadvantage.  The 
scene  is  not  altogether  new,  and  the  littleness  of  the 
impression  obtained  from  pictures  tends  to  cramp  the 
magnitude  of  the  actual  thing.  One  thing  my  previous 
conception  was  at  fault  in  :  I  had  supposed  Goat  Island 
to  be  a  little  spot  of  perhaps  half  an  acre  in  extent. 
Instead  of  that  it  is  nearly  a  mile  in  circumference,  and 
separates  the  whole  Fall  into  the  two  main  divisions, 
the  American  and  the  Horse  Shoe  Falls. 

However  true  a  picture  of  the  Falls  may  be  in  out- 
line and  general  color,  the  best  picture  fails  and  must 
fail  in  at  all  adequately  representing  the  thing  itself. 
No  pencil  can  paint  the  ceaseless  crushing,  deafening 
roar  of  the  cataract,  the  sweeping  spray  rushing  wildly 
up  from  the  seething  caldron  below,  or  the  immense 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  149 

volume  of  water  falling  or  pouring  over  the  rock,  break- 
ing in  its  descent  into  myriads  of  drops  of  water  glit- 
tering in  the  sunlight.  No  picture  can  give  you,  for 
one  thing,  the  Horse  Shoe  Falls  embosoming  in  its 
arms  a  great  gulf,  which  you  can't  help  imagining 
bottomless  and  Tartaric. 

I  have  wandered  all  about  and  seen  everything  to  be 
seen  and  now  can't  say  what  view  I  like  best.  You 
cannot  take  your  eyes  off  whatever  point  may  chance 
to  catch  them.  The  first  thing  of  special  interest 
which  attracted  me  was  the  Cave  of  the  Winds,  hol- 
lowed out  of  the  precipitous  cliff  over  which  a  portion 
of  the  sheet  falls.  You  stand  at  the  base  of  the  Fall 
and  the  entrance  of  the  cave,  and  look  and  look  till 
your  legs  tire,  for  your  eyes  never  can.  I  seemed  to 
be  in  a  kind  of  dream.  The  tremendous  sheet  of  water 
came  thundering  down  by  my  feet,  crashing  on  to  the 
rocks,  and  as  I  stood  it  seemed  to  grow  louder  and 
louder  and  louder,  till  it  fairly  seemed  as  if  the  whole 
creation  was  coming  over  that  cliff.  ....  But  I  am 
foolish  in  attempting  to  give  any  sort  of  idea  of  this 
wonder 

Chicago,  Oct.  16. 
....  I  think  I  wrote  you  last  from  Niagara,  after 
having  taken  my  first  look.  Next  morning  I  took  a 
fresh  gaze  before  breakfast  and  after,  and  tried  to  look 
so  hard  that  four  months'  wetting  of  the  salt  sea  and 
twelve  years  of  blazing  sun  might  not   obliterate  the 

impression I  made  my  way  to  the  cars,  which 

bore  me  slowly  over  the  fearful  Suspension  Bridge. 
....  A  custom-house  officer  amused  a  crowd  by 
digging  into  a  negro's   box  for  suspected  contraband 


150  LIFE  AND  LETTERS   OF 

goods,  and  liauling  out  nothing  but  Newcomb's  Ques- 
tion-Books and  iron  kettles  !  We  finally  got  under  way, 
and  after  a  dreary  ride  through  a  desolate  country, 
found  ourselves  at  Detroit.  Three  Douglas  men  by 
me  had  quite  a  discussion,  and  all  along  supposed  me 
to  be  one  of  their  clique.  I  kept  quite  mum,  until 
one  man  came  out  with  the  notion  that  the  blackness 
of  our  negro  brother  was  the  curse  of  God  upon  Ham ! 
upon  which  your  clerical  correspondent  thought  the 
credit  of  his  cloth  impeached,  fell  in,  and  of  course 
annihilated  his  adversary.     To  Chicago  Saturday. 

CoMO,  III.,  Oct.  18. 
....  I  'm  having  a  capital  time.  A.  is  a  student 
of  the  true  stamp  ;  can  quote  Schelling,  Lessing,  Hegel, 
and  all  the  German  fry  ;  will  discuss  Theology,  Meta- 
physics, Religion,  or  Hinduism  with  me  to  my  heart's 
content.  So  you  can  easily  understand  that  I  am  up 
to  my  head  in  bliss,  to  find  any  one  who  does  n't  brand 
me  as  a  fool  for  looking  up  a  little  harmless  Oriental- 
ism, and  is  willing  to  draw  me  out  on  the  heights  and 
depths  of  blessed  Brahmanism.  This  is  my  joy  and 
delight,  and  A.  has  been  reading  Hegel  and  Schelling 
on  India  to  me,  while  I  have  taken  the  liberty  to  ques- 
tion some  of  their  statements,  and  find  some  judicious 
suggestions  in  their  weighty  thoughts  ;  so  we  have  been 
talking  nothing  else  ever  since  I  came  here. 

Cameron,  III.,  Oct.  20. 

It  is  seven  o'clock  A.  m.,  and  I  am  standing  at  the 

desk  in  the  store  of  C.  Waste,  Esq.,  who  is  advertised 

to  sell  Sanative  Pills  and  Bibles.     In  Cameron  there 

may  be  at  the  outside  fifty  dwelling-houses  and  a  new 


DAVID   COIT   SCUDDER.  151 

Campbelllte  cliurch.  I  have  been  in  Cameron  about 
an  hour  before  any  Cameronite  has  stirred,  having  been 
ejected  from  the  cars  in  company  with  another  travel- 
ler. Ah  !  tell  it  not  in  Myrtle  Street.  Instead  of  wast- 
ing Mr.  Waste's  writing  materials,  I  should  about  this 
time  be  steaming  away  toward  Quincy.  Allow  me  then 
to  present  a  scientific  statement  of  the  causes  which 
have  produced  the  present  mishap,  —  which  tale  must 
condemn  me. 

If  my  recollection  serves  me  right,  I  left  Como  at 
nine  o'clock  last  night,  —  though  night  and  day  are 
sadly  commingled  in  my  head.  I  rode  fifteen  miles  to 
Dixon,  on  the  Illinois  Central  Road.  I  had  then  two 
interesting  and  delightful  hours,  from  ten  to  twelve  p.  m., 
in  the  hospitable  Wachusa  House  of  that  inland  city. 
My  companions  resorted  for  relief  to  billiards,  oysters, 
and  hotter  drinks  ;  I  settled  myself  in  a  chair,  munched 
a  huge  apple,  and  gave  myself  up  to  concocting  articles 
of  faith  and  meditating  upon  the  grounds  of  moral  obli- 
gation. At  12.13  I  again  entered  the  cars,  which  in 
another  hour  brought  me  to  Mendota,  on  the  Chicago 
and  Quincy  Road.  There  I  rechanged  my  seat  at  1.30 
A.  M.,  entered  a  sleeping-car,  got  a  berth,  pulled  off  my 
boots,  began  to  wind  up  my  watch,  and  thanking  my 
stars  that  good  comfort  was  in  store  for  me,  was  upon 
the  point  of  committing  myself  to  the  graces  of  the 
King  of  Nod,  when  the  steward  called  for  my  ticket, 
and  then  calmly  informed  me  that  I  was  in  the  wrong 
train.  Imagine  my  feelings  and  the  rapidity  with  which 
boots  and  hat  went  on,  and  I  went  off  just  in  time  to 
get  into  the  right  train.  Fairly  in  and  safe  I  clambered 
up  into  a  top  berth,  and  endeavored  to  make  myself 
indulge  the  fond  feeling  that  I  was  abed.     I  was  hardly 


162  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

conscious  of  having  slept  at  all  when  the  steward  called 
the  sleepers  up,  announcing  Galesburg,  a  change  of 
cars,  and  time  for  breakfast.  So  I  stretched,  rubbed 
my  eyes,  found  it  was  about  five  o'clock,  and  stumbled 
into  the  breakfast-room.  I  swallowed  a  beefsteak,  when, 
"  Cars  ready  1  "  "  Where  ?  "  said  I.  "  Burlington 
Road  ?  "  "  Yes."  "  There  !  "  So  in  I  went,  choking 
with  corn-cake.  Settled  at  last,  thought  I ;  but  alas  for 
human  hopes  !  the  remorseless  conductor  came  round, 
took  my  ticket,  read  "  Galesburg  to  Quincy."  "  You  're 
wrong!  "  said  he.  The  next  station  was  Cameron, — 
Cameron,  111., — and  ill-luck  prevailing,  here  am  I. 
Moreover,  and  besides  to-day  is  Saturday,  the  only 
other  train  leaves  Galesburg  so  as  to  reach  Quincy  at 
ten  p.  M.  Hannibal  is  twenty  miles  down  tlie  river, 
and  the  only  boat  from  Quincy  leaves  at  ten  a.  m.,  on 
the  arrival  of  the  morning  train,  wdiich  I  should  now 
be  in,  and  does  not  leave  Sunday  morning.  Am  I  not 
dished  ?  most  positively  and  effectually  dished  ?  One 
only  expedient  remains,  and  that  I  am  resolved  to  try. 
It  is  to  swim.  It  is  only  twenty  miles.  The  Helles- 
pont has  been  crossed,  and  why  may  not  the  Father  of 
Waters  be  swam  down  ?  I  propose  to  mount  a  snag  and 
go  swaying  down,  arriving  in  time  to  preach,  which  I 
am  engaged  to  do.  Professor  Hopkins  gave  me  as  his 
sentiment  in  my  college-book,  — "  Some  resign  them- 
selves but  with  some  exceptions."  I  never  saw  the 
special  significance  of  the  words  nor  their  application 
to  me.  Now  I  understand  and  receive  them  as  words 
peculiarly  appropriate  to  my  present  forlorn  lot. 

Macomb,  4  p.  m. 
In  confusion  worse  confounded  I  begin  to  write  this. 


DAVID  COIT   SCUDDER.  153 

A  political  mass-meeting  is  going  on,  with  all  its  at- 
tendants of  rum,  show,  and  sin.  Macomb  is  on  the  way 
to  Qaincy,  and  hearing  that  Tom  Corwin  was  to  speak 
I  concluded  to  hear  him  and  see  a  unique  phase  of 
Western  life.  I  am  all  tired  out  with  standing  full  two 
hours,  and  rest  myself  by  opening  your  letter,  which 
cannot  go  before  Monday,  and  adding  to  it.  After 
vainly  trying  to  find  some  rest  in  a  deserted  tavern  at 
Cameron,  I  wrote  to  you,  and  then  went  out  to  view 
the  country.  The  only  visible  eminence  was  a  Vir- 
ginia rail-fence.  So  I  made  for  that  and  mounted  it. 
From  it  I  could  see  miles  and  miles  of  dead  level 
prairie,  cultivated  with  corn.  I  rode  afterward  along 
five  or  six  miles  of  one  continuous  cornfield.  On  the 
fence,  and  away  from  anybody,  I  essayed  to  try  my 
lungs.  I  succeeded.  I  rehearsed  my  missionary  ser- 
mon at  the  top  of  my  voice,  and  just  as  I  was  in  the 
midst  of  one  of  my  most  stirring  passages,  a  man  ap- 
peared coming  across  the  prairie,  riding  on  a  mule. 
He  came  up  to  me  and  accosted  me  with  "  What 's 
up?  What's  up?  "  I  informed  him  that  I  was  up,  on  a 
fence.  He  said  he  thought  I  was  sick,  and  rode  off. 
Cameron,  I  take  it,  was  slightly  disturbed ;  but  what 
care  I  ?  my  neckcloth  was  not  white. 

....  I  find  that  my  mistake  has  put  me  into  a  tight 
place.  I  shall  reach  Quincy  at  ten  p.  m.  Possibly  a 
chance  boat  may  go  down  during  the  night,  and  I  may 
be  summoned  out  of  bed  to  board  it.  Possibly  I  may 
persuade  some  one  to  drive  me  down  to  Hannibal  in 
the  night.  I  find  too  that  a  boat  goes  on  Sunday  at 
11. Sp.  Now  what  shall  I  do  ?  My  conscience  is  not 
so  clear  that  I  at  once  decide  not  to  take  the  Sunday 
boat:  or  get  some  one  to  drive  me  down  Sunday  morn- 


154  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

ing.  I  am  expected  to  preach  and  talk  to  the  children. 
Personally  I  should  have  no  hesitation  in  going  on  Sun- 
day under  the  circumstances,  but  what  effect  will  my 
talks  have  upon  persons  who  may  know  the  facts  and 
not  reason  as  I  do  ?  ....  I  think  I  shall  probably  be 
at  Hannibal  to-morrow  by  some  w^ay,  right  or  wrong  !  I 
forgot  to  tell  you  how  I  made  my  mistake,  and  that  I 
ought  to  do,  for  honor's  sake,  you  know.  The  road 
from  Chicago  is  called  the  Chicago,  Burlington,  and 
Quincy  Railroad.  But  it  forks  at  Galesburg,  hav- 
ing two  termini^  one  at  Burlington  and  the  other  at 
Quincy.  I  had  not  so  understood  it,  and  in  my  five 
o'clock  state  hardly  had  my  wits  about  me,  and  accord- 
ingly wdien  pointed  to  the  Burlington  cars  thought  my- 
self all  right,  —  but  it  was  all,  all  wrong,  as  my  present 
state  beareth  witness. 

St.  Joseph,  Missouri,  Oct.  23. 
Here  I  am  on  the  muddy  Missouri,  writing  with  none 
to  molest,  on  slave-soil,  but  with  suffering  Kanzas  in 

full   view I  must  for  your  sake  take  up  the 

thread  of  my  chronicle  where  last  broken  off,  and  that 
I  believe  was  in  the  interesting  town  of  Macomb,  where 
the  din  of  a  Western  Republican  meeting  was  thunder- 
ing in  my  ears.  Well,  I  managed  at  last  to  escape 
from  the  Wide-awakes,  who  gathered  in  great  numbers 
to  escort  me  to  the  train  (Tom  Corwin  was  also  aboard) 
at  about  seven  p.  m.  We  arrived  at  Quincy  at  ten,  and 
I  gained  my  first  peep  at  the   Father  of  Waters  by 

moonlight The  keeper  of  the  hotel  promised  to 

wake  me  if  a  night  boat,  down,  chanced  along,  but 
none  came,  or  rather  I  was  not  waked  up.  Sunday 
morning  came.     I  rose  early  and  at  once  ferreted  out  a 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  155 

liveiy-stable  and  woke  the  keeper  with  the  question  of 
how  much  he  woukl  charge  to  take  me  to  Hannibal, 
twenty-one  miles.  After  some  chaffing  we  struck  a 
bargain,  and  I  told  him  to  hurry  round  to  the  hotel ;  so 
by  seven  a.  m.  we  were  off  for  Hannibal,  — and  Sunday 
morning.  What  do  you  think  ?  It  was  my  first  ex- 
perience of  the  thing,  and  I  by  no  means  felt  at  ease. 
The  noon  boat  down  would  not  reach  Hannibal  until 
afternoon.  I  did  not  know  how  much  S.  might  be  de- 
pending  upon  me,  and  the  only  real  doubt  was  as  to 
the  keeping  of  the  livery-man  at  work.  Concluding 
that  I  would  strike  hands  Avith  conscience  by  agreeing 
to  preach  to  the  man  on  the  way  down,  I  decided  to 
go.  If  it  had  been  any  other  day  I  should  have  en- 
joyed the  drive  hugely.  I  could  easily  have  fancied 
myself  in  the  far  South.  The  road  took  us  down  the 
river,  but  the  river  itself  we  left  some  four  miles  away. 
A  broad  belt  of  meadow,  skirted  on  the  river  side  by  a 
timber-growth,  lay  on  our  right,  and  quite  a  high  bluff 
just  at  our  left,  sometimes  wooded,  sometimes  culti- 
vated, and  delighting  one  with  its  graceful  curves  and 
green  slopes.  As  for  houses  and  inhabitants  we  saw  but 
few,  and  the  fewer  the  more  pleasing  was  the  prospect. 
We  met  quite  a  number  of  folk  riding,  apparently  to 
meeting,  but  where  the  meeting-house  was  I  could  n't 
divine.  Once  in  a  while  some  urchin  would  come  out 
of  the  woods  on  one  side  and  cross  over  on  his  bony 
horse  to  the  opposite  thicket,  and  again  a  scowling  man 
with  a  savage-looking  rifle  would  make  his  appearance. 
We  passed  an  opening  where  an  emigrant  train  was 
halting,  perhaps  for  the  day.  It  was  a  rough-looking 
set,  and  rather  threw  dust  upon  the  picture  of  such  life 
that  I  used  to  draw  when  a  boy.     We  finally  reached 


156  LIFE  AND  LETTERS    OF 

the  ferry  as  the  bells  were  ringing  for  church  in  Han- 
nibal on  the  other  side.  The  boat  was  on  the  other 
side,  too,  and  I  had  to  wait  some  time  before  it  crossed, 
and  then  had  to  pacify  the  man  for  being  the  only  one 
wishing  to  cross  by  paying  double  ferriage.  Arrived 
in  Missouri,  my  first  thought  was,  I  am  on  slave- 
ground.  I  had  nothing  incendiary  with  me,  however, 
so  I  pushed  boldly  up  the  street  and  entered  the  Plant- 
ers' House. 

I  deposited  my  bundle,  brushed  off  the  dust,  and  in- 
quired at  once  for  the  new  Congregational  church.  I 
found  it  at  the  other  end  of  the  city,  and  entered  just 
as  S.  was  giving  out  notices  with  no  reference  to  me. 
He  saw  me  just  as  he  was  reading  his  text,  and  though 
rather  disconcerted,  went  on  with  his  sermon.  It  was 
as  I  supposed.  He  had  been  depending  upon  me,  and 
was  giving  for  the  morning  an  old  sermon,  hastily 
dressed  up.  I  sent  a  card  to  him  offering  to  preach 
and  talk,  and  at  the  close  of  service  he  announced  that 
I  would  address  the  Sunday-school  at  noon,  which  I 
did,  and  also  preached  in  the  evening. 

In  the  morning  S.  proposed  that  I  should  take  a  trip 
to  Kanzas,  offering  me  a  free  pass  there  and  back.  So 
you  see  I  thought  it  too  good  an  offer  to  let  go  unused, 
and  accepted  it.  S.  could  not  come  with  me,  but  I 
came,  and  here  is  thy  servant  in  a  tip-top  house,  as 
much  at  home  as  if  in  New  York.  I  am  content.  I 
have  at  last  reached  the  goal,  —  I  am  at  the  West. 
My  room  looks  out  upon  the  Missouri  as  I  saw  dimly 
last  night.  So  I  left  my  blinds  and  windows  open  for 
an  early  look  this  morning.  When  I  awoke  I  rubbed 
my  eyes,  and  raising  myself  in  bed  looked  out.  The 
very  first  thing  that  greeted  my  expectant  vision  was 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  157 

an  enormous  sign  right  before  me,  on  which  was  painted 
in  hno;e  letters  —  THE  WEST.  It  needs  no  sio;n  how- 
ever  to  prove  to  me  that  I  am  West.  A  walk  soon 
does  that.  Mules  parade  the  streets.  Queer-looking 
covered  wagons  are  seen.  Mail-bags  turn  out  of  the 
post-office,  marked  Denver  City,  and  so  on.  Pike's 
Peak  stores  and  Pike's  Peak  hotels  stare  at  one  at 
every  turn.  Every  other  man  you  meet,  almost,  has 
a  gun  in  his  hands,  and  a  four-nmle  mail-wagon  passes 
you  with  ominous-looking  muskets  peering  out  from 
beneath  the  seats.  The  city  itself  is  an  admirable 
example  of  a  Western  city.     You  can  see  it  grow. 

While  on  his  return  he  heard  of  the  death  in  Persia 
of  the  Rev.  Amherst  L.  Thompson,  who  had  been  a 
classmate  at  Andover,  a  member  of  the  Brethren,  and 
from  his  congeniality  of  temperament  a  warm  friend  of 
David.  There  was  so  much  in  common  between  these 
two,  —  so  much  of  the  same  fire  and  eager  expectation, 
—  that  the  sudden  death  of  the  missionary  just  entered 
on  his  work  sounded  like  a  clear  bell  in  the  atmosphere 
of  David's  life.  He  listened  and  was  impressed  as  never 
before.  There  are  few  witnesses  to  the  struggle  which 
then  passed  through  his  mind,  —  only  a  few  written 
words,  a  Sabbath  of  silent  meditation  in  New  York 
when  no  preacher  drew  him  forth  from  the  solitude  of 
his  room,  for  Thompson's  death  was  speaking,  —  but 
certain  it  is  that  thereafter  he  was  conscious  of  other, 
deeper  feeling  respecting  his  work  than  the  eager,  al- 
most boyish  enthusiasm  which  hitherto  had  possessed 
him.  At  his  conversion  he  had  once  and  for  all  given 
himself  up  to  the  missionary  work ;  years  afterward  he 
could  write  — "  Since  that  time  I  have  never  made 


158  LIFE  AND  LETTERS   OF 

any  formal  committal  of  myself  to  the  work."  Now  he 
did  consecrate  himself  with  a  holier  purpose  to  a  ser- 
vice which  he  was  willing  never  to  perform  if  God 
should  so  require  of  him.  As  one  who  once  seeing 
Death  now  sees  Life  newly  revealed  to  him,  so  David 
from  this  moment  kept  steadfastly  before  him  the  rev- 
elation ;  the  voice  which  spoke  through  Thompson's 
death  never  grew  faint. 

[to  rev.  benjamin  labaree,  jr.] 

Boston,  Nov.  10,  1860. 
Delay  in  answering  your  two  last  letters  seems  un- 
pardonable, but  I  have  been  full  of  business,  having  just 
returned  from  the  West.  I  was  away  four  weeks,  and 
stopped  at  Cincinnati  on  my  way  back.  Whilst  there 
I  bought  a  copy  of  "  The  World."  In  it  was  Wash- 
burn's Turkey  letter,  and  at  the  close  a  brief  sentence 
weightier  than  all  the  rest  to  me.  I  was  all  alone,  and 
in  a  state  to  have  the  sad  news  weigh  upon  me  in  its 
full  power.  Arriving  at  New  York  a  few  hours  later, 
I  found  your  letters  awaiting  me  at  H.'s  room.  I  hardly 
knew  what  to  think.  My  first  feeling  was  an  indefina- 
ble one  of  insecurity,  as  if  I  myself  were  standing  in 
some  perilous  position,  in  momentary  danger  of  death. 
You  know  my  own  circle  of  friend's  has  seldom  been 
broken  in  upon,  and  I  think  this  bereavement  has  come 
nearer  to  me  than  any  previous  one.  Our  little  com- 
pany all  seem  like  brothers  more  than  "  Brethren,"  and 
Thompson  was  a  near  brother.  I  thought  of  our  class- 
meeting  and  its  final  scene :  Thompson  leading  us,  and 
speaking  of  his  prospects  as  cheerfully  and  hopefully  as 

any  one  of  us So  even  in  the  first  moments  of 

dismay,  I  felt  that  his  death  was  proving  a  blessing  to 


DAVID   COIT   SCUDDER.  159 

me  in  opening  my  eyes.  He  with  his  firm  health,  his 
high  aspirations,  his  full  plans  was  not  proof  against  the 
Destroyer,  and  was  I  ?  I  found  that  I  had  been  look- 
ing to  the  future  with  unwarranted  presumption  ;  that  I 
had  not  so  much  lived  in  the  spirit  of  the  prayer  — 
"  Take  me  not  away  in  the  midst  of  my  days,"  as  taken 
it  for  granted  that  these  past  days  of  preparation,  this 
clear  saiHng  toward  my  goal,  were  surety  to  me  that  I 
could  presume  confidently  upon  at  least  a  few  years' 
lease  of  life.  My  eyes  were  opened,  and  though  I  rode 
homeward  saddened  by  the  event,  yet  I  could  not  but 
feel  thankful  that  I  was  led  by  it  to  look  upon  life  in  a 
more  truthful  aspect. 

The  day  of  sailing  was  at  length  set  for  the  11th  of 
March,  1861,  and  the  bustle  of  immediate  preparation 
began.  It  was  well  for  all  that  so  much  was  required 
to  be  done.  David  was  busier  than  ever,  attending  to 
a  thousand  things,  and  still  working  perseveringly  at 
Sankya  and  Yoga ;  but  all  his  business  could  not  keep 
his  thoughts  off  the  day  so  near  at  hand.  It  has  been 
shown  how  eagerly  he  looked  forward  to  this  day,  how 
impatient  he  was  of  the  repeated  delays,  and  how  hard 
he  found  it  to  be  content  to  remain  at  home.  The  one 
purpose  of  his  life  impelled  him  and  tliere  was  little 
looking  back  ;  forward  he  always  had  looked  by  the 
very  cast  of  his  nature.  It  was  all  changed  now. 
The  deep  home  affection  which  had  found  abundant 
expression  was  intensified  by  the  coming  separation ; 
it  was  India  still  to  which  he  was  going,  but  —  it  was 
home  that  he  was  leaving.  These  things  cannot  be 
written,  perhaps  his  own  words  are  too  sacred  to  be 
here  set  forth ;  but  I  am  writing  of  one  who  left  home, 


160  LIFE  AND  LETTERS   OF 

brothers,  sister,  father  and  mother  for  the  sake  of 
Christ,  and  the  fulness  of  the  sacrifice  can  only  be 
shown  by  what  it  cost  him  to  make  it.  To  Mr.  La- 
baree  he  writes  :  — 

"  I  write  you  once  more  from  these  shores,  that  I 
may  call  to  mind  a  dear  old  acquaintance  and  remember 
that  Persia  has  a  special  hold  upon  my  love.  A  long, 
long  time  it  seems  since  I  bade  you  good-bye,  but  at 
last  my  turn  has  come.  Leaving  home  is  not  a  fancy, 
but  a  living  fact  which  strikes  me  hard.  I  did  n't  know 
I  loved  my  home  so  much.     But  He  giveth  me  grace. 

To-night  I  bid  good-bye  to .     So  they  go,  one  by 

one.  How  full  these  days  ;  how  one's  heart  sinks.  But 
let  us  put  a  cheerful  courage  on  and  look  up.  Well,  I 
am  as  near  to  you  in  India  as  here,  —  and  as  near 
heaven.  Good-bye,  Ben,  and  good-bye  to  tlie  others 
with  you.  When  I  pray  for  you  I  still  unconsciously 
whisper  Thompson's  name.  He  needs  not  our  prayers. 
Pray  for  me." 

To  Mr.  Washburn  he  writes :  —  "  I  am  off.  We  ex- 
pect to  sail  on  Monday  next.     I  write  only  to  hail  you, 

though  I  must  say  I  am  not  in  a  hailing  mood 

But  I  must  go.  Duty,  work,  —  Christ  calls  me  hence 
and  I  must  obey.  But  I  must  ohey^  not  go  because  I 
have  made  up  my  mind.  These  sacrifices  I  must  make 
for  Christ.  I  think  I  wish  to.  I  cannot  write  more 
now.  I  am  to  leave  for  India,  dear  India.  I  may  not 
live  long  there,  —  indeed  I  cannot  drive  away  the  feel- 
ing that  I  shall  not,  but  let  me  be  faithful  while  I  live. 
And  you  will  meet  me  and  welcome  me  ?  Do,  —  and 
help  me  to  be  faithful  on  the  ship  —  that  I  may  be  in 
India.  And  I  will  always  love  you.  Love  to  the  Breth- 
ren, my  brethren,  now  at  last,  — an  unworthy  one  am 
I,  your  old  friend  David." 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  161 

He  was  ordained  as  a  missionary  on  Monday,  Febru- 
ary 25th,  in  the  church  in  which  he  was  educated ;  his 
pastor.  Rev.  Dr.  Nehemiah  Adams,  preached  the  ser- 
mon. Rev.  Edward  Webb,  of  the  Madura  Mission, 
gave  the  charge,  and  his  brother,  Rev.  Evarts  Scudder, 
gave  him  the  Right  Hand  of  Fellowship ;  the  other 
parts  in  the  ordination  were  taken  by  Rev.  Drs.  Fisk, 
of  Newburyport,  Thompson,  of  Roxbury,  and  Hooker, 
of  Boston.  On  the  Wednesday  following  he  was  mar- 
ried to  Miss  Harriet  L.  Dutton,  daughter  of  Georg(j 
D.  Dutton,  Esq.,  of  Boston,  who  was  associated  as 
deacon  in  Union  Church  with  David's  father.  Mon- 
day, March  11th,  was  the  day  appointed  for  the  com- 
pany to  sail,  and  the  following  extract  from  a  letter 
written  to  an  absent  member  of  the  family  presents  the 
scene  of  the  embarkation  :  — 

"  The  people  began  to  come  by  nine  o'clock,  and 
every  one  must  see  the  state-room.  There  was  a  ter- 
rible jam,  and  persons  would  stand  and  stand  in  the 
passage-ways.  The  day  was  perfect,  a  good  westerly 
breeze,  bright  sky,  and  fleecy  clouds,  a  little  bit  cool,  so 
that  the  religious  exercises  were  held  iu  the  cabin  in- 
stead  of  on  the  deck.  Those  outside  joined  in  the 
singing,  but  were  half  a  line  behind  the  others  at  one 
time.  After  it  was  throuo;h  the  missionaries  stood  out- 
side  and  bade  all  good-bye.  Father  was  off  in  the  fore- 
castle talking  with  the  sailors,  and  knew  nothing  of  the 
persons  leaving  the  ship,  and  was  one  of  the  last  to  go. 
David  had  to  go  ashore  once  or  twice  to  bid  some  one 
good-bye  who  in  the  hurry  had  passed  him  by,  and 
there  was  in  general  some  little  hurry.  The  exercises 
were  at  ten,  and  the  tug  started  after  eleven.  The  end 
of  Devens's  Wharf  and  the  whole  sidewalk,  of  the  hridggt 
11 


162  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

were  packed  with  persons,  though  many  had  gone  away 
unable  to  wait  so  long  ;  they  waved  their  handkerchiefs 
till  the  very  last,  a  mass  of  moving  white,  and  sang 
'  Coronation  '  as  the  vessel  started  fairly  from  the  bridge. 
It  sounded  most  beautifully  on  the  ship.  J.  said  that 
they  started  very  loudly,  but  that  as  they  went  on  sing- 
ing and  the  faces  began  to  become  undistinguishable, 
one  voice  after  another  dropped  away  uncontrollable. 
We  rounded  the  point  at  the  north  end  of  the  city,  and 
gave  our  handkerchiefs  a  last  wave,  till  David  said 
'  There,  they  are  gone  out  of  sight,'  and  I  turned  and 
saw  the  big  tears  stand  on  David's  eager,  joyful  face. 

" .  .  .  .  We  who  were  with  them  went  out  to  the 
outer  light ;  they  told  us  it  was  time  to  get  into  the  tug, 
and  put  a  ladder  down  the  side  for  us  to  get  in  by.  It 
was  pretty  hard  work,  for  the  little  tug  was  pitching 
and  rolling  at  a  fearful  rate.  Dave  had  gone  down 
into  the  cabin  and  I  had  to  rush  around  in  a  great 
hurry.  I  bade  him  good-bye  and  hurried  down  the 
ladder,  —  pretty  difficult  work,  for  it  was  grinding  on 
the  side  of  the  ship  to  the  danger  of  crushing  fingers 
and  toes  in  our  descent.  It  was  well  we  hurried,  for 
scarcely  were  we  all  aboard  than  one  of  the  hawsers 
parted  with  a  snap.  We  got  on  top  of  the  deck  of  the 
tug  and  gave  them  three  hearty  cheers,  which  they  re- 
turned lustily,  but  we  soon  found  that  we  had  not  yet 
parted  company,  but  were  putting  to  sea  with  them, 
dragging  them  after  us  by  a  long  rope ;  after  two  or 
three  miles,  the  rope  was  heaved  overboard  and  we  gave 
them  six  glorious  cheers  which  they  again  returned, 
David's  clear  voice  rinorino;  above  them  all :  there  stood 
Dave,  as  I  last  saw  him,  waving  hat  and  handkerchief, 
which  we  returned  as  we  could  with  our  only  free  hand. 


DAVID   COIT  SCUDDER.  163 

Just  at  the  end  of  hailing-distance  I  shouted, '  Good- 
bye, Dave, '  —  up  went  the  sails,  away  they  sped,  a  no- 
ble-looking sight.  We  kept  our  handkerchiefs  going 
as  long  as  we  could  see  them,  not  knowing  how  long 
they  might  distinguish  us  with  their  marine  glass,  but 
as  we  were  going  against  a  strong  wind,  it  was  pretty 
cold,  and  so  we  held  our  handkerchiefs  between  our 
teeth  and  buried  our  hands  in  our  pockets.  So  we 
stayed  till  half-past  two,  when  she  was  obscured  by  the 
horizon." 

So  the  ship  sailed  away ;  the  crowd  that  watched  it 
and  sent  up  prayers  for  its  safe  passage  separated ;  the 
two  families  who  had  been  bereft  in  the  saiKng  of  the 
ship  turned  homeward,  the  father  of  the  young  mission- 
ary to  record  in  his  brief  diary  :  —  "  Thus  have  we 
parted  with  our  beloved  son  and  his  wife,  after  contem- 
plating it  for  many  years ;  he  is  followed  by  the  prayers 
and  good  wishes  of  numerous  Mends,  and  we  trust  the 
sacrifice  we  make  in  thus  parting  with  him  is  well-pleas- 
ing to  Jesus  Christ,  the  great  Head  of  the  Church,  our 
Saviour  and  Friend." 


164  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 


CHAPTER   IX. 

THE  VOYAGE  AND   THE  LANDING. 
[11  March-26  June,  1861.] 

The  company  on  the  "  National  Eagle,"  Captain 
George  Matthews,  consisted,  besides  my  brother  and  his 
wife,  of  the  captain's  wife  and  young  son  ;  Rev.  Edward 
Webb,  Mrs  Webb,  child,  and  infant,  returning  to  the 
Madura  Mission  ;  Rev.  John  Scudder  and  wife,  on  their 
way  to  join  the  Arcot  Mission ;  Mr.  Gould,  an  invalid 
gentleman  of  Boston,  in  quest  of  health ;  and  the  wife 
of  an  Indian  civil  officer,  returning  to  her  husband, 
whom  she  had  been  compelled  to  leave  in  the  revolt  of 
1857.  There  was  scarcely  a  drawback  to  the  pleasure 
of  the  voyage  ;  sometimes  it  was  tediously  slow,  and  it 
was  remarked  that  where  they  expected  trade-winds 
they  had  calms,  and  steady  winds  where  they  did  not 
look  for  them.  The  passage  was  a  little  longer  than 
the  average,  one  hundred  and  seven  days  from  Devens's 
Wharf  to  Madras,  but  it  was  a  welcome  interval,  bring- 
ing rest  from  continued  labor  and  preparation  for  com- 
ing scenes.  How  the  days  w^ere  passed  will  be  learned 
from  the  following  letter :  — 

[to  rev.  j.  m.  sturtevant,  jr.] 

....  One  day  here  is  like  another.  Let  me  give 
you  a  specimen  brick.  At  5.30,  I  am  awaked  by  the 
slushing  of  water  upon  the  deck  overhead,  which  is 
washed  every  day ;   descend  from  my  shelf,  don   my 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  1^5 

garments,  rush  out  and  souse  into  the  big  salt  water 
tub.  At  6,  gaze  at  the  gorgeous  sunrise,  —  never 
equalled  even  your  way,  —  and  read  till  prayers  at  8.30. 
Prayers  in  the  cabin,  when  all  passengers  attend,  con- 
ducted by  us  three  in  turn.  Breakfast,  always  ending 
with  the  hominy  or  mush,  and  always  accompanied  by 
the  onion-hash.  9-10,  Tamil,  when  ladies  appear  and 
study;  I  go  into  Comparative  Grammar.  12,  men 
have  dinner ;  in  hot  weather  cool  ice-water  is  drawn 
from  the  tank  and  we  refresh  ourselves.  12-2, 1  write, 
and  the  ladies  recite  to  Mr.  Webb.  At  two  we  dine 
recite  from  three  to  four,  and  I  read  aloud  to  H.  till 
half-past  five.  Till  six,  bean-bags,  exercise  and  sunset. 
Supper  and  prayers,  then  moonrise  and  chat  on  deck, 
and  to  bed. 

^  Sunday  alone  is  different.  At  half-past  ten  the  en- 
sign is  wrapped  about  a  low  ventilator  on  the  poop- 
deck,  which  serves  for  a  pulpit,  seats  are  brought,  and 
the  watch  above  ordered  aft  for  service.  The  crew  is 
divided  into  two  watches  of  four  hours  each,  day  and 
night,  and  at  ten  and  a  half  the  watch  from  four  o'clock 
to  eight  has  turned  in.  One  of  us  preaches,  taking 
turns,  and  I  tell  you  it  is  not  an  unpleasing  sight  to 
see  a  company  sitting  thus  under  a  clear  sky  about 
you,  singing  praises,  listening  to  God's  word,  and  pray- 
ing to  Him.  The  crew  are  quite  attentive :  they  are 
mostly  foreigners,  Swedes,  Danes,  Dutch,  Prussians, 
Italian,  German,  Enghsh,  and  Nova-Scotian.  I  brought 
with  me  enough  Bibles  for  all,  and  all  are  eager  to 
learn  English.  A  few  Sundays  out,  when  over  sea-sick- 
ness, I  made  my  first  attempt  at  reaching  them.  I  saw 
a  number  reading  and  went  forward  ;  found  them  read- 
ing the  Bible,  and  talked  with  them  about  their  coun- 


166  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

try,  &c.,  helped  them  read,  and  finally  proposed  that 
after  dinner  we  should  have  a  Bible-class.  They  said 
yes,  and  so  with  some  trepidation,  when  dinner  was 
over,  I  visited  the  forecastle.  Soon  after  entering,  one 
man  remarked  that  he  came  from  hell  last ;  true,  doubt- 
less, but  I  told  him  it  was  a  better  place  to  come  from 
than  to  go  to,  and  as  the  others  did  not  countenance 
him  he  kept  still.  We  read  in  John  about  an  hour. 
The  next  Sunday  I  attempted  the  same,  but  found  only 
one  there  and  sat  down  with  two  or  three  outside,  and 
read.  So  I  have  done  every  Sunday  since,  thinking  it 
hardly  worth  the  while  to  attempt  a  formal  class  where 
so  few  could   understand  me.     I   enjoy  reading  with 

them  and  have  better  chances  for  talk John 

Scudder  has  a  Bible-class  with  the  boys  and  two  mates, 
who  bunk  separately  forward.  One  of  these  I  had  a 
long  chat  with  one  night  on  the  lookout.  But  it  seems 
almost  impossible  to  get  into  these  foreigners,  so  wrapped 
up  are  they  in  the  educational  trammels  of  a  State  re- 
ligion. 

"  Yesterday,"  he  writes  in  his  journal,  "  I  read  a 
couple  of  hours,  one  with  the  carpenter,  a  Swede,  who 
seems  to  have  taken  a  liking  to  me,  and  calls  me  Master 
David,  just  like  Mr.  Bookland  of  old.  I  like  him  for 
his  simplicity  and  earnestness,  and  good  shelves  too,  — 
he  has  just  put  me  up  a  shelf  over  the  foot  of  my  berth. 
The  other  hour  I  read  with  Hans  Peter  Andersen, 
or  Peter  as  he  is  known.  He  is  a  sail-maker,  and  a 
quite  superior  fellow,  a  Dane.  Both  of  these  I  had 
Testaments  for.  I  spend  pretty  much  all  of  Sunday 
among  the  men  forward,  and  like  it ;  they  are  a  clever 
set." 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  167 

Later  in  the  voyage  he  adds,  "  One  thing  presses 
upon  me  as  we  go  on :  two  weeks  may  close  onr  voy- 
age, and  for  aught  I  know",  no  one  on  board  is  the  bet- 
ter for  our  presence,  certainly  none  has  yet  changed 
the  purpose  of  his  heart.  This  ought  not  to  be,  it 
seems  to  me,  and  I  chide  myself.     Last  night  I  had  a 

pleasant  conversation  with  ,  and  my   first  upon 

personal  religion.  My  feeling  afterward  was  —  why 
did  I  not  begin  earlier  ?  Is  this  to  be  the  way  through 
life,  a  neglect  of  duty  until  the  startling  view  of  the 
next  world  wakes  me  up  to  effort  for  my  fellow-men 
now  ?  I  am  too  much  inclined  to  preface  direct  Chris- 
tian work  by  a  host  of  preliminaries,  instead  of  march- 
ing straight  to  the  mark  and  doing  at  once  that  which 
I  am  called  to  do." 

So  even  a  life  admits  of  little  excitement  beyond  the 
speaking  of  a  ship  or  the  sight  of  a  whale,  but  the 
company  was  large  enough  to  admit  of  variety  in  soci- 
ety, and  the  days  went  by  evenly  and  full  of  simple  en- 
joyment. There  was  a  deal  of  pleasurable  occupation 
also  in  watching  the  varied  moods  of  the  sea.  David 
made  friends  with  all,  frolicked  with  the  captain's  boy, 
and  kept  the  interest  of  the  crew  throughout,  and  often 
too  he  turned  away  from  the  present  company  to  the 
home  friends  w^hom  he  had  left,  journalizing  for  their 
benefit,  hoarding  up  the  scanty  bits  of  ship  news  and 
holding  more  familiar  intercourse  w4th  separate  friends. 
His  father  had  begun  his  correspondence  already  with 
a  long  and  minute  account  of  his  life,  written  for  Da- 
vid's entertainment  and  intended  as  a  pleasant  surprise. 
"  How  much  we  enjoyed  father's  long  letter,"  he  writes. 
"  But  it  is  too  good  a  joke  not  to  tell,  how  well  he  was 


168  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

blinded  about  my  supreme  unconsciousness  as  to  any 
such  thing  being  done.  Did  n't  I  beheve  that  father 
would  write  it  when  I  asked  him,  and  did  n't  I  think 
something  was  in  the  wind  when  I  saw  him  writing  so 
industriously  at  the  back-parlor  window,  day  after  day  ? 
Did  n't  mother  cough  to  father  when  certain  loose 
sheets  were  lying  about  on  the  centre-table,  and  was  I 
not  very  good  never  to  notice  that  mysterious  bundle 
shuffled  so  adroitly  into  the  box  in  the  dining-room  ? 
And  did  n't  I  wonder  who  on  earth  it  could  be  who  had 
written  what  would  be  worth  more  than  all  the  rest 
together,  as  mother  averred  ?  " 

[to  his  sister.] 
I  wish  you  could  board  us  one  of  these  bright  moon- 
light nights  and  see  how  delightful  everything  appears. 
Just  sit  down  in  the  stern  of  the  ship  and  look  down 
into  the  foaming  waters,  as  we  rush  along,  ten  knots  an 
hour,  —  and  off  into  the  wake  of  the  moon  dancing  up 
and  down,  and  to  the  sails  all  set  and  glistening  in  the 
bright  beams.  Such  nights  are  the  cream  of  our  en- 
joyment  We  are  fast  passing   out  of  our  last 

cool  weather,  —  are  now  off  Madagascar  with  its  cruel 
queen  and  Christian  king.  But  oh,  could  you  see  these 
tremendous  swells !  When  the  ship  is  going  right  be- 
fore the  wind  and  the  wind  blowing  just  as  the  swell, 
then  you  have  it !  You  can  hardly  believe  that  the 
huge  swell  will  not  walk  right  over  you ;  and  then, 
when  on  the  crest  I  can  compare  it  to  nothing  so  well 
as  to  the  scene  from  West  Mountain,  Williamstown, 
looking  down  on  to  a  sea  of  lesser  hills,  stretching  on  as 
far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  —  and  so  up  and  down,  the 
birds  sailing  about  you,  gigantic  albatrosses  sweeping 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  169 

about  in  graceful  awkwardness,  and  the  frisky  Mother 
Carey  chickens  tripping  lightly  about  from  wave  to 
wave,  daintily  touching  their  toes  on  the  water,  or  tip- 
ping now  one  wing  and  now  another.  Oh !  we  never 
tire  of  looking;. 

The  quiet  period,  after  the  bustle  of  preparation  and 
the  eager  expectation  of  years,  was  sure  to  bring  many 
thoughts  of  his  future  work,  many  strong  recollections 
of  what  he  had  parted  from ;  indeed,  so  painful  was 
much  of  this  recollection  that  he  would  not  suffer  him- 
self to  give  way  to  it  nor  to  speak  with  the  freedom 
which  his  longing  for  expression  prompted.  Some 
signs  of  what  he  felt,  looking  behind  and  before,  are 
shown  in  individual  letters.  Thus  in  his  letter  to  Mr. 
Sturtevant  he  writes  further :  — 

''....  I  have  just  re-read  your  letter  of  March  2, 
which  reached  me  in  time.  You  say  that  it  will  be  but 
a  few  days  before  we  all  reach  home.  I  say  Amen. 
Do  you  know  that  since  leaving  home  I  have  felt  as 
never  before  that  the  true  home  is  after  this  life,  and 
seem  to  feel  that  this  separation  is  but  momentary? 
Indeed  I  have  suffered  more  in  parting  with  friends 
than  I  anticipated,  and  I  humbly  hope  that  I  am  reach- 
ing some  of  the  missionary  blessings.  I  am  beginning, 
I  think,  now  that  India  draws  nigh,  to  see  my  needs. 
I  long  sometimes  to  do  a  good  work  for  Christ,  but  all 
my  reading  and  conversation  lead  me  to  see  that  the 
self  must  be  dropped  from  sight,  the  real  aim  of  the 
worker  kept  full  in  view,  and  I  be  willing  to  meet  the 
severest  w^ant,  not  as  a  disappointment,  but  as  another 
step  in  the  appointed  course  which,  as  unforeseen,  shall 
offer  fresh  food  for  study." 


170  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

To  a  brother  also  he  writes :  —  "It  is  a  sore,  sore 
trial  to  be  away  from  home,  I  tell  you,  and  what  is 
worse,  to  feel  that  there  is  no  recal.  How  privileged 
are  they  who  are  called  of  God  to  labor  where  they 
may  see  the  living  faces  and  hear  the  tones  of  voice  of 
those  they  love.  But  I  believe  a  dearer  joy  is  reserved 
for  us,  when  the  work  against  sin  shall  be  finished,  and 
the  reunion  above  be  effected.  I  am  beginning  to 
believe  in  heaven  as  a  fact,  ever  before  us  to  cheer. 
I  seldom  thus  far  in  life  have  longed  to  be  there,  — 
since  leaving  home  I  have." 

[to  rev.  s.  b.  treat.] 
A  sea-voyage  is  a  good  place  for  sober  thinking.  How 
often,  in  looking  out  upon  this  sea  and  these  changing 
heavens,  have  my  thoughts  wandered  over  the  past  and 
peered  into  the  future.  This  is  a  good  place  to  form 
resolves  in,  over  a  fresh  study  of  God's  word.  Most 
heartily  I  thank  God  for  this  opportunity  that  I  do  not 
plunge  thoughtlessly  into  the  work.  Paul's  stay  in 
Arabia  —  may  it  not  have  been  of  great  value  to  him 
in  his  after-course  ?  I  have  been  led  especially  to  study 
Paul's  epistles  during  the  last  month,  and  have  been 
stirred  up  as  never  before.  What  am  I  going  to  India 
for  ?  How  am  I  to  live  there  ?  I  firmly  believe  that 
for  me  the  isolation  from  Christian  society  will,  by 
God's  help,  prove  of  real  worth  to  my  religious  char- 
acter. I  experienced  a  deal  of  spurious  religious  ex- 
hilaration, and  did  much  that  looked  like  active  work 
for  Christ  in  America.  Now,  I  feel  that  the  true  test 
of  my  Christian  spirit  is  to  come  in  India.  It  is  com- 
paratively an  easy  thing  to  go  about  the  country  and 
talk  fervently  on  missions,  gaining  the  credit  of  a  heart 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  171 

fully  in  the  work ;  but  how  will  it  be,  when  the  voice 
of  praise  will  be  but  dimly  heard  and  dark  night  be  all 
about  me  ?  Paul  answers,  and  I  can  see  in  a  measure 
what  the  true  missionary  spirit  is,  even  though  it  has 
not  yet  possessed  me,  —  "I  glory  in  my  infirmities  that 
the  power  of  Christ  may  rest  on  me."  I  wonder  at 
his  willingness  to  abnegate,  disregard  self.  It  must  to 
the  world  appear  to  border  upon  pusillanimity.  "  I  will 
very  gladly  spend  and  be  spent  for  you,  though  the 
more  abundantly  I  love  you  the  less  I  be  loved."  I 
can  see  the  Christian  heroism  of  the  man,  but  I  look 
on  such  a  spirit  as  almost  unapproachable.  I  am  sure 
that  I  could  not  say  that  now.  Still  I  believe  that  I 
long  to  be  able  to  say  as  truly  that  I  care  not  for  self, 
and  take  pleasure  in  infirmities.  Paul  could  not  have 
reached  that  height  at  one  step,  but  only  by  constant 
struggle.  I  foresee  many  positions  where  I  shall  be 
called  to  sink  private  preferences  at  others'  wish,  and 
where  I  should  be  guilty  did  I  not  do  it.  But  it  will 
come  hard.  And  then  to  preach  the  word  night  and 
day  with  tears  to  an  unsympathizing,  sneering  crowd ; 

—  where  is  my  sufficiency  ?     I  believe  I  see  it  in  this 

—  let  me  be  fully  possessed  with  a  sense  of  the  won- 
derful depth  and  fulness  of  power  in  the  message  of 
life.  Here  was  Paul's  stand  if  I  read  him  aright.  I 
never  noticed  before  how  his  naturally  national  mind 
stretched  out  to  reach  all  nations,  how  he  burned  as  he 
wrote  of  the  mystery  hitherto  hid,  now  made  known, 
that  the  Gentiles  were  to  be  fellow-heirs  and  partakers 
of  the  promise  with  the  Jews.  A  strait  Pharisee  re- 
joicing over  this !  Now  is  not  this  my  word  ?  Though 
men  revile  and  turn  their  backs,  yet  may  I  not  gain 
such  a  sense  of  this  ineffable  grace  of  God,  His  love 


172  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

which  would  seek  to  reconcile  His  haters  to  Himself, 
that  I  shall  always  be  cheerful  ?  I  feel  that  to  be  truly 
successful  as  a  missionary,  counting  success  not  by  the 
number  of  converts,  but  as  Paul  did,  according  to  the 
faithfulness  with  which  I  testify  of  the  grace  of  God,  I 
need  to  stay  myself  on  the  true,  the  firmest  ground, 
allowing  secondary  and  subordinate  motives  to  help  me 
on,  but  grasping  with  my  might  the  cardinal  principles 
of  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  I  do  long,  yearn  at  times, 
to  be  Christ's.  Yet  I  am  not  weak  enough  now.  I 
have  not  proved  my  weakness  as  I  shall  some  day. 
Then  Christ  will  be  prepared  to  show  his  power  in  me. 
I  have  felt  however  my  insufficiency  on  shipboard. 
Here  we  are,  within  a  fortnight  of  Madras,  and  not 
a  soul  here  has  become  a  Christian.  We  have  had 
preaching  service  and  a  little  Biblical  instruction,  and 
private  instruction  has  not  been  wholly  neglected.  Yet 
I  have  not  been  as  faithful  as  I  might  have  been.  I 
have  been  pleased  to  find  true  Christians  as  I  believe 
among  the  foreigners. 

The  following  entry  in  his  diary  shows  the  result 
of  his  study  on  shipboard :  —  "I  have  been  through 
Pope's  '  Tamil  Hand-Book,'  Pope's  '  Third  Grammar,' 
a  part  of  Galatians,  have  written  two  or  three  prayers 
and  a  good  part  of  a  sermon  in  Tamil.  I  have  read  a 
good  part  of  Caldwell's  'Dravidian  Grammar,'  one 
volume  of  Bopp's  '  Comparative  Grammar,'  Renan 
on  '  L'Origine  du  Langage '  twice,  Farrar  on  '  Origin 
of  Language,'  part  of  Renan  on  '  Semitic  Languages,' 
Weber's  'Litterature  Indienne  '  (in  part),  Kaye's  '  Ad- 
ministration of  East  India  Company,'  Kaye's  '  Chris- 
tianity in  India,' '  Life  of  Carey  Marshman  and  Ward,' 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  173 

part  of  Maury's  '  Physical  Geography  of  the  Sea,' 
'  Adam  Becle,'  '  Memoirs  of  Lobdell,'  '  Weitbrecht,' 
'  Fox,'  '  Knill,'  Gibson's  account  of  '  Revival  in  Ire- 
land ' ;  I  have  written  a  long  journal  home  and  about 
twenty  letters." 

On  June  25th  they  sighted  Friar's  Hood,  a  peak  on 
the  Island  of  Ceylon.  The  next  day  they  saw  plainly 
the  coast  south  of  Madras,  and  David  bringing  his  sea- 
journal  to  a  close  writes :  —  "  Our  voyage  is  over,  all 
full  of  goodness  from  the  hand  of  God  as  it  has  been. 
My  home  is  at  hand.  My  work  is  before  me.  India 
is  to  be  the  Lord's.  How  soon  ?  "  The  quiet  of  the 
voyage  was  followed  by  the  bustle  of  landing,  and  the 
next  day,  in  Madras,  he  finishes  his  sea-journal  with  the 
following  account  of  the  close  of  the  voyage,  and  his 
first  excitement  upon  fairly  standing  on  the  shores  of 
India :  — 

In  a  dream,  in  a  dream.  Here  we  are  at  last  fairly 
tossed  out  into  an  Oriental  jumble.  Haw  !  haw  !  croak 
the  crows,  and  all  about  chimes  in,  dinning  into  one's 
eyes  as  well  as  ears,  —  "  You  're  a  Griffin,"  as  they  call 
new-comers  here.  But  lest  I  jumble  up  you  as  well, 
let  me  begin  at  my  last  break  and  run  as  far  as  I  can, 
telling  tidbits,  letting  big  facts  go.  The  first  living 
thing  we  sighted  was  a  dhorey  or  native  sloop.  Soon 
we  spied  a  black,  triangular-looking  thing  which  turned 
out  to  be  the  black  sail  of  a  catamaran  going  out  to 
fish.  Catamaran  means  "  tied-trees  "  and  is  nothing  but 
three  logs  bound  together.  Squatted  on  these  boats 
when  at  anchor,  standing  up  when  going,  were  some 
sable  natives  who  gave  us  our  first  introduction  to 
India.     When   at  anchor  they  squat,  throwing  their 


174  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

lines  out  and  putting  the  fish  into  date-leaf  baskets. 
Pretty  soon  the  sea  became  alive  with  this  style  of 
craft.  One  came  near  us  and  a  man  held  up  a  fish. 
I  used  my  first  Tamil,  and  shouted  out  "  Come  here !  " 
but  he  could  not  catch  us.  Thicker  and  thicker  they 
came,  till  we  could  hear  them  chattering  to  one  another. 
They  had  none  too  much  raiment  on  them,  and  one 
wonders  how  they  can  bear  the  hot  sun  on  their  bare 
heads  and  naked  backs.  Soon  one  chap  came  alongside 
and  crawled  over ;  a  scrawnj-looking  fellow  enough 
and  stupid  withal.  We  could  make  nothing  of  him, 
but  if  my  alcohol  had  been  at  hand  I  should  have  got 
some  prawns  and  fish  for  S.  [a  Naturalist  brother.] 
I  hope  to  yet. 

Just  as  this  catamaran  came  up,  a  Masullah  boat 
appeared  in  sight.  On  it  came,  bearing  several  gay- 
turbaned  individuals  in  the  stern.  As  soon  as  alongside, 
all  hands  scrambled  on  deck,  and  here  were  Hindus 
indeed.  The  rowers,  about  a  dozen  or  eighteen,  were 
mostly  fine  athletic  men.  The  ti*\baned  fellows  were 
sent  by  the  consignees.  They  were  |arge  in  their  own 
eyes,  especially  one  fellow  Avho,  like  all  Hindus,  consid- 
ered that  an  aldermanic  protuberance  was  the  highest 
ornament  to  the  person.  He  strutted  about  with  folded 
arms  and  high  mien,  looking  as  if  he  would  not  refuse 
a  good  slasher  of  beef.  One  or  two  were  really  hand- 
some. Several  had  the  mark  of  the  beast  on  their 
forehead,  —  Siva's  three  marks. 

Pretty  soon  another  big  boat-load  of  the  same  sort 
came  alongside  with  turbaned  individuals,  carrying  their 
characters  in  their  pockets  and  offering  their  services. 
We  were  busy  now,  for  letters  and  papers  had  come 
for  the  captain,  and  all  gathered  round  while  we  read 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  I75 

extracts  from  Boston  papers  and  the  telegraphic  news 
from  a  Madras  paper,  extracts  which  let  us  at  once 
into  the  midst  of  your  tossings  and  fever.  We  feared  the 
worst  and  it  had  nearly  come.  This  mixed  up  matters 
most  provokingly.  News  of  Tammany  sachems,  be- 
coming wise  at  last,  was  jumbled  with  Tamil  chattering 
and  orders  about  the  ship.  We  had  by  this  time'rat"^ 
tied  out  our  anchor.  The  deck  was  a  perfect  Babel, 
naked  humanities  running  about  and  poking  their  chaf- 
fing English  into  people's  faces,  while  the  new  sailors 
stared  at  the  queer  sight.  The  custom-house  officer 
too  had  come,  and  was  consulting  with  the  captain. 
But  suddenly  our  maze  was  disentangled  by  the  com- 
ing of  another  boat,  in  which  we  made  out  John  Scud- 
der's  brothers.  He  hurrahed,  they  shouted  back,  and 
soon  the  brothers  were  embracing  and  laughing,  and 
playing  their  jokes  in  a  most  brotherly  fashion. 

Another  boat!  This  makes  for  the  forward  part. 
I  run  and  peer  over  and  see  two  men.  "  Mr.  Ban- 
croft," says  one.  I  rush  back  and  tell  the  captain  that 
the  ice-agent  has  come.  Mr.  Webb  looks  over  and 
sees  his  old  friend,  my  new  one,  Mr  Hunt,*  who  clam- 
bers up  and  greets  us  all  in  his  quiet,  affectionate  way. 
Hurrah  !  Home  letters  !  Down  we  sit  on  our  tied-up 
mattresses  and  cut  open  the  fat  packages.  No  one 
missing.  H.  is  at  hers  and  I  at  mine,  letting  all  other 
sights  and  sounds  go  now.  But  I  only  read  enough  to 
find  that  all  are  well,  and  that  blessings  unsupposed 
though  not  unprayed  for  had  come  upon  ours,  —  and 
then  we  put  up  our  last  bundles  ready  for  shore.  F. 
is  let  down  into  one  boat  by  a  chair,  H.  on  the  other 
side  of  the  ship  descends  in  an  Occidental  fashion.     I 

*  The  Printer  and  Agent  at  Madras  for  the  American  Mission. 


176  LIFE  AND  LETTERS   OF 

rush  about,  shake  hands  with  all  the  sailors,  say  a  final 
"  Come  along !  "  to  Polly,  the  parrot,  and  down  I  go. 

Now  for  Madras  and  the  surf!  We  are  in  a  Masul- 
lah  boat,  a  big  *trough  of  a  thing  made  of  boards  tied 
together  and  the  seams  stopped  up  with  grass,  so  that  it 
may  give  when  going  over  the  rollers.  The  seats  are 
nothing  but  bars  three  inches  square  and  four  feet  apart, 
that  is,  those  for  the  rowers.  A  little  raised  platform, 
decidedly  rickety,  holds  with  squeezing  Mr.  Webb's 
party,  Mr.  Hunt,  Mr.  Bancroft,  H.  and  me.  Ava  !  here 
we  go  !  and  now  we  have  done  forever  with  Stars  and 
Stripes  and  Western  ways.  Down  go  the  oars,  long 
poles  with  teakettle-covers  at  the  end,  and  with  grunt- 
ings  from  the  men  and  'pos !  from  us  we  are  off.  As 
the  men  pull,  they  sing  out  in  a  low  tone,  not  opening 
their  mouths,  for  the  other  organ  suffices,  Annan!  An- 
nan !  helping  it  out  with  an  occasional  Vadah!  Vaddh  I 
In  five  minutes  we  are  upon  the  rollers.  It  is  a  calm 
day  and  the  rollers  are  lower  than  usual ;  we  row  on  to 
the  first  swell.  The  men  lay  by,  and  as  soon  as  fairly 
over,  Jeldi  I  Jeldi  !  shout  the  men,  and  away  we  go  to 
the  next;  so  on  and  on,  for  six  or  seven  times  until 
we  ground  on  the  beach.  It  is  raining  hard,  and  the 
water  rushes  in  upon  us  somewhat  from  behind.  Here 
we  lie  till  some  black  chaps,  who  need  not  be  afraid  of 
wetting  their  clothes,  came  out  to  us  and  carried  us  to 
the  land  in  chairs. 

Mr.  Winslow's  carriage  is  waiting  and  in  we  crawl. 
Mr.  Webb  goes  with  Mr.  Hunt,  and  John  with  his 
brothers.  Here  I  try  my  Tamil  again  and  manage  to 
get  my  things  on  board.  (There !  we  are  lands-folk 
now.)  Now  for  a  drive  in  this  handy^  better  looking 
than   most   others,  which   remind  me   of  our  Boston 


DAVID  COIT   SCUDDER.  177 

House  of  Correction  carts  that  we  boys  used  to  be  so 
mortally  afraid  of  Away  Po !  The  horse-keeper  runs 
ahead  to  keep  people  out  of  the  way,  but  as  the  drive 
is  out  of  the  business  parts,'  we  meet  few  carts.  We 
have  a  jolly  time.  "  Nothing  looks  natural,"  says  H., 
"  but  the  surf."  That 's  a  fact !  Scrawny  palm-trees 
half  withered  up  ;  crows  cawing  at  you  with  the  most 
brazen  impudence  ;  clumps  of  queer-looking  grass  ; 
cactus  growing  on  the  beach,  no  flowers  though,  ex- 
cept a  little  purple  one  nodding  cheerily  to  us  as  we 
pass.  I  try  my  Tamil  again,  solely  in  the  form  of 
"  Is  this  so  and  so  ?  "  and  get  the  very  flattering  an- 
swer "^m,"  —  Yes.  I  feel  fine,  but  come  down  when  I 
find  that  the  driver  was  wrong,  and  that  the  natives  will 
always  say  "  Yes,"  when  they  think  it  will  please  you. 
We  pass  some  fine  houses  and  come  out  at  last  into  a 
native  neighborhood.  Here  is  a  cluster  of  low-roofed, 
thatched  houses,  quite  respectable  for  the  kind,  and 
men,  women,  and  young  brats  doing  all  sorts  of  things 
and  all  in  a  queer  way.  The  young  ones  kick  up  and 
have  a  jolly  time  here  just  as  we  young  ones  used  to. 

But  we  go  too  fast  to  see  much,  and  speedily  rein  up 
before  Mr.  Winslow's  spacious  house.  Mr.  Winslow 
comes  down  the  steps  and  greets  us  both.  Mrs.  W. 
follows  and  we  are  at  home,  —  in  India.  Everything 
looks  roomy.  We  are  shown  to  our  room,  and  I  walk 
back  and  forth  and  touch  the  walls  to  assure  myself 
that  I  have  over  six  feet  of  spare  room.  The  room  is 
higher  than  it  is  broad,  and  everything  bears  the  ap- 
pearance of  airiness.  I  come  out  after  looking  over 
some  letters  and  walk  up  and  down  the  veranda 
(jdlias  piazza)  with  Mr.  Winslow.  We  chat  about 
everything,  especially  about  the  war  at  home.     Before 

12 


178  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

long  Mr.  Webb  comes  with  Mr.  Hunt,  as  this  is  the 
evening  for  a  prayer-meeting. 

Soon  after  Mr.  Webb  came,  Abraham  Alleine,  a 
Christian  munsM,that  is,  teacher,  came  in  to  greet  him. 
He  had  been  ten  years  with  Mr.  Webb  at  Dindigah 
He  gave  me  a  pleasing  idea  of  the  Christian,  "  for," 
said  he,  in  Enghsh,  "  I  cannot  stop.  I  must  do  God's 
work  first;  I  am  on  my  way  to  our  prayer-meeting," 

a  native   meeting We  had  a  hearty  meeting, 

praying  especially  for  our  own  land  ;  the  spirit  was 
most  refreshing,  so  natural  and  rich.  After  they  had 
gone  we  o^oened  a  budget  of  letters  from  Madura  and 
found  a  hearty  All  hail !  from  the  missionaries  there. 
It  fairly  made  us  cry  to  get  such  a  warm  greeting 
from  strangers ;  but  we  are  strangers  no  more. 

To  one  of  the  letters  referred  to  in  the  last  paragraph 
he  replied  as  follows :  — 

Madras,  June  28,  1861. 
Nothing,  my  dear  brother  Burn  ell,  has  affected  us 
so  deeply  as  the  receipt  of  words  of  hail  from  those 
unknown  to  us,  save  by  name.  Let  me  return  yoiu' 
greeting,  and  try  to  join  you  in  thankfulness  to  God  that 
He  has  counted  me  worthy  to  touch  India.  As  a  new- 
comer, let  me  ask  peculiar  interest  in  your  supplications 
for  me  that  I  maybe  fitted,  by  a  personal  acquaintance 
with  Christ,  to  testify  of  the  Gospel  of  God.  I  am 
more  impressed  as  I  walk  about,  with  my  ow^n  lack 
than  with  the  heathen's  misery. 

Hoping  to  see  you  all  in  peace,  I  remain 
Yours  sincerely, 

David  C.  Scudder. 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  179 


CHAPTER   X. 

STAY  IN  MADRAS. 
[27  June— 16  July,  1861.] 

[From  the  time  of  leaving  home  until  his  death,  my 
brother  kept  a  full  journal,  in  the  form  of  a  letter  to 
his  father  and  mother,  which  was  regularly  mailed  once 
a  fortnight.  This  contained  the  record  of  his  daily  life, 
and  was  intended  for  the  circle  of  friends  at  home, 
around  which  it  passed  ;  to  separate  friends  also  he 
wrote,  and  to  those  who  had  access  to  his  journal  his 
letters  were  frequently  more  personal.  From  both  these 
sources,  his  journal  and  his  letters,  I  am  able  to  give 
the  narrative  of  his  life  in  India  in  his  own  words. 
The  occasional  editorial  notes  which  may  be  required 
will  be  indicated  in  this  part  by  brackets.] 

[journal  letter.] 

Thursday,  June  27. 
This  morning  I  was  up  and  out  and  oh. 


how  I  did  pine  for  you  just  to  have  you  by  to  laugh 
with  me.  As  it  was  I  had  to  ha !  ha !  right  out :  I 
could  not  help  it,  if  I  was  a  missionary.  To  see  a  little 
tot  strutting  about  free  as  the  air,  unfettered  by  civili- 
zation, cunning  and  nimble  as  Puck'!  The  first  thing 
that  stopped  me  was  the  sight  of  three  bits  of  ebony 
dabbling  in  the  mud,  for  all  the  world  like  white  young- 
sters. The  oldest,  a  little  girl,  had  a  necklace  on,  and 
all  had  bright  chirk  faces.    I  grinned  and  they  grinned. 


180  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

I  said  in  Tamil,  "  Are  you  well  ?  "  They  only  grinned, 
and  so  ended  my  first  attempt  at  trying  the  children. 
I  like  them  though,  and  take  back  what  I  once  said  in 
our  Sabbath-school,  on  authority,  that  all  the  little  chil- 
dren in  India  were  old  men.  They  are  not ;  they  are 
hond  fide  children.  They  romp  and  look  demure  and 
smile  at  you,  and  dig  in  the  dirt  just  as  they  ought  to. 

But  how  can  I  tell  what  I  saw  ?  Patterns  or  else 
the  originals  of  all  vehicles,  from  the  "  carriages  "  of 
the  Acts,  rather  hard !  to  the  go-carts  of  nowadays  ; 
bullocks  with  stiff  and  crumpled  horns  ;  gaunt  sons  of 
Arabs  trotting  by ;  bandies  of  all  sorts  and  shapes. 
There  comes  one :  two  bullocks  jog  along,  with  a  rope 
through  their  nostrils,  the  driver  sitting  upon  the  pole ; 
inside  —  a  space  of  four  feet  square  —  sit  four  or  five 
swarthy  sons  of  this  land  in  hot  contiguity,  looking  as 
if  going  to  be  sold  in  the  shambles,  chattering  like  apes. 
Here  comes  a  woman,  modestly  apparelled,  as  all  are, 
with  a  young  brat  puss-back,  or  rather  puss-hip  ;  some 
ride  puss-shoulder,  always  one  leg  behind,  one  in  front. 
Here  is  a  fat  and  oily  Brahman  with  his  cord  about 
his  neck.  Here  is  a  man  carrying  two  earthen  pots 
full  of  something,  slung  by  a  stick  over  his  shoulder. 
Peons^  that  is,  policemen,  walk  about  with  their  brass 
bado-es,  and  here  is  a  Mussulman  woman  covered  from 
head  to  foot  with  a  white  cloth,  so  that  nothing  can  be 
seen. 

I  walked  as  far  as  the  stone  statue  of  Sir  Thomas 
Munroe,  a  former  Governor,  and  turned  back.  It 
occurred  to  me  that  I  had  seen  no  temple,  so  I  looked 
out  on  my  return,  and  found  one  close  by  a  wretched 
collection  of  huts,  which  brought  to  mind  a  picture  of 
an  African  kraal.     I  saw  what  looked  like  a  temple, 


DAVID  COIT   SCUDDER.  181 

and  would  you  believe  it,  it  was  one  of  Pilliyar  which 
I  had  so  often  described  in  America.  I  really  could 
not  but  feel  amused.  There  it  was,  a  stone  or  clay 
building,  about  twelve  feet  cube,  crumbling  to  decay, 
with  a  low  portico,  under  which  was  Siva's  stone.  On 
the  outside,  in  a  small  niche  about  two  feet  square,  sat 
Pilliyar  nearly  filling  the  space  and  made,  I  judge,  of 
black  stone.  The  niche  had  two  doors  which  I  suppose 
are  shut  at  night.  There  I  stood  and  looked  and 
thought  and  prayed.  Inside  I  could  hear  the  mutter- 
ings  of  the  poor  priests  or  worshippers,  and  as  I  stood 
there,  a  man  passing  by  on  his  way  to  work  raised  his 
hands  and  bowed  his  head  and  went  on.  Here  was 
idolatry  ;  it  is  marked  too  on  the  foreheads  of  men,  in 
the  sectarian  signs  of  chalk  and  ashes.  Turning  into 
the  compound  or  enclosure  of  Mr.  Winslow's  house,  I 
met  a  Christian  teacher  and  passed  a  few  words  in 
Enghsh.  I  said,  "  This  is  my  first  day  in  India." 
"  Yes,"  said  he,  "  and  I  am  the  first  person  to  meet 
you,  which  will  be  pleasant  in  your  memory."  A 
small  bit  of  Orientalism  I  suppose. 

After  breakfast  I  went  to  Popham's  Broadway  in  a 
palkee.  A  palkee,  short  for  palanquin,  is  about  six 
feet  by  three,  and  four  feet  high,  fined  with  chintz  ;  the 
bottom  of  cane,  covered  with  a  cushion  or  bed  ;  two 
sliding  doors  on  each  side ;  a  shelf  with  drawers  in 
front,  and  a  back  of  pad,  something  like  a  coach-strap, 
to  lean  on  as  you  half  sit  up ;  a  pole  is  fixed  for  four 
men,  two  at  each  end.  One  end  is  raised,  you  com- 
pose your  members  properly  and  then  the  other  end 
rises.  Grunt !  off  we  are,  slow  at  first,  then  fast  and 
faster.  Eh  !  says  one  in  front.  Ay !  says  one  behind, 
and  so  it  runs  from  back  to  front  and  back  again,  as  the 


182  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

four  men  make  their  way  in  a  dog-trot  style,  swinging 
their  free  arms  as  if  to  strike  their  breasts,  and  writhing 
their  swarthy  bodies  very  oddly.  They  sing  in  a  low, 
monotonous,  nasal,  and  half-pitiful  way,  eh  !  oh  !  ah  ! 
eh  !  oho  !  ay-ai !  the  man  behind  breaking  out  now  and 
then  into  a  hi  !  or  ho  !  and  something  that  sounds  like 
pass  po !  pass  po  !  as  if  in  his  last  gasp.  Every  five 
minutes  they  change  their  shoulders,  without  however 
setting  you  down,  and  begin  their  grunt  again,  but  al- 
ways on  a  different  key.  I  like  the  way  of  getting 
about  and  the  chant  is  rather  soothing. 

....  In  the  late  afternoon  we  drove  out  to  the 
beach  where  everybody  goes  and  which  was  lively 
enough.  The  surf  rolls  in  finely  and  thus  we  have 
Nature's  anthem.  The  band  gives  us  art.  The  whole 
road  is  lined  with  carriages  of  all  sorts,  and  horses  of 
every  kind  galloping  about.  The  horse-keeper  always 
runs  ahead  of  the  carrias^e,  shoutinsi:  to  folks  to  clear 
the  track.  Fine  turn-outs  have  two  runners,  who  keep 
a  wisp  made  from  the  tail  of  a  ydk^  a  kind  of  goat  from 
the  north.  But  this  is  civilization  and  you  don't  care 
about  that. 

....  I  like  the  affectionate  way  that  the  natives 
have  toward  each  other.  You  often  see  two  men  walk- 
ing along  with  their  fingers  joined,  not  the  whole  hand, 
but  swinging  their  hands  by  their  fingers.  Then  at 
night  when  all  are  on  their  way  from  work,  it  is  com- 
mon to  see  one  leaning  with  one  or  both  hands  on 
another's  shoulders  in  a  very  brotherly  way. 

Friday,  June  28. 
....  I  started  at  five  and  a  half  p.  m,  and  made 
my  way  to  the  native  bazaar.     A  bazaar  is  much  like 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  183 

a  Fonrth-of- July  or  Fair-Day  booth  strung  out.  There 
were  whole  streets  of  them.  Everybody  saluted  me 
in  broken  English,  but  I  let  my  eyes  alone  do  duty.  I 
walked  where  I  chose,  and  it  was  not  long  before  I  got 
lost.  All  the  streets  look  exactly  alike  and  all  queer. 
I  did  not  much  care  what  happened  for  a  while,  bound 
to  see  all  I  could.  I  came  across  many  little  temples, 
as  I  suppose,  though  I  fancy  most  were  only  private 
dwellings,  with  niches  in  the  walls  for  household  dei- 
ties. I  have  as  yet  seen  none  but  the  most  innocent 
paintings  on  temples  or  house  walls,  nothing  indecent, 
in  all  my  ramblings.  Black  Town,  the  native  part,  is 
only  about  a  mile  in  diameter,  and  I  have  wandered 
over  a  good  portion  of  it. 

But  what  amazed  me  most  completely  was  a  school 
that  I  happened  upon.  All  my  previous  ideas  were 
tame  enough.  It  was  gathered  on  the  low  mud  ve- 
randa of  a  native  house,  and  on  the  ground,  slieltered 
from  the  road  by  a  cane  screen.  I  knew  it  at  once 
by  the  din  of  voices,  but  oh  the  sight !  The  whole  set 
of  thirty  or  so  were  yelling  out  their  lessons  from  black- 
boards. At  one  end  sat  the  teacher,  a  man  of  about 
sixty,  with  silver-bowed  goggles,  and  a  piece  of  green 
leaf  against  his  face  to  keep  them  from  chafing,  I  judge. 
By  his  side  stood  a  boy  of  about  twelve,  almost  naked, 
his  hair  tied  in  a  queue  behind,  reading  out  of  a  native 
printed  book.  As  he  saw  me  stop,  he  went  at  it  with 
unusual  energy,  yelling  so  as  to  be  heard  a  half  a  mile 
away.  He  stuck  out  his  thick  lips,  drew  in  a  tremen- 
dous breath  and  then  let  it  out :  it  was  perfectly  deafen- 
ing. His  voice  grew  lower  and  lower  till  it  sunk  into  a 
whisper,  while  he  writhed  his  head  and  body  to  squeeze 
out  the  last  bit.     Then  he  began  again,  singing  off  the 


184  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

words.  Once  in  a  while  the  old  man  would  stop  him, 
and  show  him  how,  in  exactly  the  same  style,  only  his 
toothless  mouth  contrasted  queerly  with  the  shining 
ivories  of  his  pupil.  I  stepped  up  and  looked  over. 
The  old  man  was  very  polite  and  showed  me  the  book, 
which  turned  out  to  be  in  Telegu.  He  grunted  and  I 
grunted  back.  Finding  that  I  could  get  off  a  little 
Tamil,  he  sang  out  to  somebody  inside  to  come  out,  but 
I  feared  the  consequences  and  beat  a  sudden  retreat. 

Saturday,  June  29. 
....  This  evening  I  took  a  walk  on  Mount  Road, 
leading  to  St.  Thomas's  Mount,  the  favorite  drive. 
The  English  shops  here  are  decidedly  unique  and  are 
fine  establishments.  Many  look  like  palaces,  having 
long  sweeping  avenues  leading  up  to  them,  with  beau- 
tiful grounds  about,  containing  twenty  acres  or  more. 
The  roads  too  are  well  macadamized  and  broad,  so 
that  an  evening  drive  here  along  the  sea-side,  where 
the  surf  beats  up  ceaselessly,  is  decidedly  refreshing 
after  a  hot  day.  The  picturesque  garb  of  the  natives 
makes  a  pleasing  addition  to  the  scene.  As  I  sat  on  a 
parapet  by  the  road-side,  a  young  girl  came  by  and 
seeing  me  stopped,  stooped  and  made  a  gesture  as  if 
scooping  up  sand  and  putting  it  on  her  head  ;  all  grace- 
fully done,  and  she  went  on  her  way.  It  is  often  done 
to  you  and  strikes  one  very  unpleasantly.  The  ordi- 
nary and  only  salutation  that  I  have  seen  is  touching 
the  forehead  and  slightly  bowing.  At  first  I  did  not 
like  it,  but  I  think  now  it  is  nothing  more  than  equiva- 
lent to  our  lifting  or  touching  our  hats.  It  seems  hu- 
miliating, though,  to  pass  as  I  did  yesterday  between 
two  long  lines  of  beggars,  and  have  them  bow  their 
heads  to  the  dust. 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  185 

Monday,  July  1. 
Yesterday  morning  at  seven  o'clock  I  went  to  preach 
before  breakfast  in  the  Baptist  chapel.  There  were 
about  eighty  present,  mostly  Anglo-Indians  or  Eura- 
sians, as  they  are  called,  half  foreign,  half  native.  I 
preached  extempore  on  the  words,  "  Freely  ye  have 
received,  freely  give,"  —  a  good  text  for  me  and  my 
favorite.  The  audience  was  very  attentive.  One 
thing  was  Asian :  punkahs  were  swinging  everywhere. 
I  used  to  have  a  very  indefinite  idea  of  what  a  punkah 
was.  It  is  simply  a  narrow  strip  of  board  covered 
with  cloth  or  painted,  from  which  hangs,  on  the  edge, 
a  fringe  of  thick  cloth.  It  is  hung  by  long  cords  from 
the  ceiling,  and  is  pulled  by  a  cord  passing  over  a  pul- 
ley in  the  opposite  wall.  In  the  church  two  long  ones 
were  swaying  back  and  forth  across  the  body  of  the 
church  ;  four  or  five  swung  to  and  from  me  on  each 
side-aisle,  and  one  small  one  over  my  head.  After 
service  I  came  home,  ate  a  hurried  breakfast  and  went 
into  Mr.  Winslow's  Tamil  service.  He  preached  on 
the  fall  of  Jericho,  and  I  made  out  to  understand  con- 
siderably well  what  was  said.  In  this  chapel  the 
natives  generally  sit  on  seats  like  Europeans,  but  most 
of  the  children  squat  on  the  floor  with  two  or  three 
female  teachers.  The  teachers  are  Christian,  and  it  was 
a  pleasant  sight  to  see  them,  as  they  first  sat  down,  bow 
with  their  faces  to  the  ground  toward  the  pulpit  in 
silent  prayer.  Their  quiet,  pleasing  faces  bore  the 
mark  of  Christian  intelligence.  But  the  little  ones ! 
They  were  disposed  in  two  semicircular  rows  in  front 
and  looked  demure  enough,  but  some  of  the  uncurbed 
ones  rolled  about,  chuckled,  kicked  up  their  shiny  feet 
and  had  a  good  time  evidently.     One  little  fellow,  about 


186  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

four  years  old,  had  a  check  jacket,  but  he  clearly  con- 
sidered it  an  encumbrance,  and  was  not  satisfied  till  he 
had  disrobed  himself  and  crumpled  up  his  jacket  be- 
tween his  clenched  fists.  Several  times  during  service  a 
crow  would  perch  on  the  window  and  haw  !  haw  !  most 
saucily.  The  singing  is  fully  equal  to  the  most  ortho- 
dox music  in  New  England.  The  only  organ  used  was 
the  nasal,  and  that  was  played  on  to  perfection. 

We  had  Monthly  Concert  at  four  p.  M.  Mr.  Wins- 
low  asked  me  to  speak  —  in  Tamil,  which  I  declined  ; 
by  an  interpreter,  which  I  agreed  to.  But  afterward 
I  asked  myself.  Why  not  begin  in  Tamil  to-day  ?  It 
will  do  to  tell  of  at  least !  So  at  meeting  when  Mr. 
Winslow  introduced  me,  and  Abraham  came  forward 
to  interpret,  I  began  in  Tamil ;  he  gave  an  involuntary 
oh !  and  retreated.  I  told  them  where  I  had  come 
from  and  why  I  had  come  to  them.  A  large  part  of 
my  discourse  consisted  of  the  text  of  my  morning  ser- 
mon. I  was  rather  flurried  and  hardly  "  raked  an  X," 
as  we  should  say  at  Williams.  But  I  made  a  beginning 
and  mean  to  keep  it  up.  By  the  way,  in  what  I  said 
was  a  good  illustration  of  the  liability  to  mistake  and 
egregious  blunders  under  which  a  novice  labors :  after 
meetinor  I  asked  Mr.  Winslow's  servant  if  he  under- 
stood  me.  "  Yes,"  said  he,  "but  what  is  kodaif'' 
"  A  gift,"  said  I,  or  tried  to  say,  but  he  could  not  quite 
comprehend.  There  is  no  good  single  word  for  gift ; 
kodai  is  used  and  I  took  it  when  saying,  "  God  has 
given  me  a  gift."  It  is  not  a  common  Avord,  but  an- 
other, similar  in  sound,  is  common,  viz:  kudai^  where 
the  li  is  pronounced  almost  precisely  like  o,  and  which 
word  means  umbrella.  He  thought  I  said  "  God  has 
given  me  an  umbrella,"  and   naturally  was   puzzled. 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  18T 

However  he  told  me,  laughing,  that  he  was  not  go- 
ing to  talk  English  any  more  to  me,  and  he  does  not. 
I  heard  of  a  more  ludicrous  mistake.  A  missionary  in 
Bombay  was  discoui'sing  most  eloquently  to  a  native 
assembly,  and  in  the  course  of  his  speech  hoped  that 
the  Lord  would  give  them  all  an  understanding ;  un- 
fortunately the  term  for  understanding  closely  resembles 
another  of  different  meaning ;  and,  blundering,  he 
hoped  that  the  Lord  would  give  to  all  of  them  an 
old  woman  ! 

....  This  morning  I  went  to  a  book-store  kept  by 
an  Englishman,  where  was  a  very  good  assortment  of 
books,  but,  much  to  my  relief,  I  found  nothing  which 
strongly  tempted  me.  Coming  to  Lidia  gives  me  grace, 
I  fancy,  father.  Down-town  I  bought  a  pith  hat,  cov- 
ered with  white  cloth  ;  when  appearing  in  this,  you 
might  easily  imagine  that  Robinson  Crusoe  stood  before 
you.  It  is  shaped  like  a  washbowl,  and  fits  to  your 
head  by  a  band,  connected  with  the  hat  only  by  four 
supports,  thus  allowing  a  free  circulation  inside.  In- 
deed the  wind  fairly  howls  about  my  head I 

paid  my  palkee-bearers  yesterday  more  than  the  usual 
price.  When  the  chief  man  took  it  —  a  half-rupee  —  he 
began  to  expostulate  with  me  on  the  wretched  pay.  I 
marched  off,  whereupon,  with  a  most  contemptuous 
look,  he  flung  the  money  on  the  ground.  I  paid  no 
heed,  but  left  him,  and  presume  that  he  condescended 
to  pick  it  up  finally.  Not  long  ago,  a  man  bet  with  a 
new-comer  that  the  latter  would  not  pay  his  bearers 
enough  to  satisfy  them.  The  man  went  to  ride,  and 
afterward  paid  the  bearers  four  or  five  times  the  usual 
sum.  With  most  profound  bowings,  the  head-man 
begged  of  his  honor  to  have  compassion  upon  them,  so 


188  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

poor,  and  give  them  enough  to  buy  a  sheep  I  It  Is  of 
no  use  to  try  to  satisfy  them.  Yesterday,  when  com- 
ing back,  a  new  set  bore  me,  and  waited  an  hour  on 
the  veranda  in  hope  of  more  pay.  Every  time  I 
looked  out,  I  could  see  them  with  their  hands  to  their 
foreheads. 

July  10. 

I  see  some  new  sights  nearly  every  morning  as  I 
take  my  walk.  A  few  days  since,  I  was  wandering 
about  among  native  streets,  when  I  came  across  a 
mosque.  There  are  many  Mohammedans  throughout 
Southern  India,  and  many  are  very  rich.  They  were 
the  rulers  of  the  country  before  the  English,  and  ill 
brook  the  English  supremacy.  This  mosque  was  a 
broad,  white  building,  with  two  tall  minarets,  one  at 
each  end.  A  large  yard  was  all  about  it,  and  I  only 
ventured  to  look  in.  I  could  see  on  the  pavement 
before  the  mosque  men  bowing  and  prostrating,  first 
one  way  and  then  another.  I  made  my  way  about, 
and  through  a  noisy  bazaar,  stopping  to  look  and  laugh 
at  two  boys  who  were  lugging  off  another  brat  bodily, 
and  at  last  turned  into  what  seemed  a  burial-ground. 
The  people  stopped  to  look  at  me,  and  I  to  look  at  a 
man  dressed  in  gay  colors,  who  was  seated  on  a  slab, 
with  an  old  manuscript  before  him.  There  he  sat, 
swaying  his  body,  and  chanting  through  his  nose  some 
religious  sayings,  —  perhaps  the  Koran.  It  was  a  pict- 
ure of  desolation  —  that  Mohammedan  poring  over  his 
books  in  the  midst  of  decaying  tombstones  and  tumbled- 
down  sepulchres. 

July  11. 

As  I  was  riding  alone  to-day  I  passed  a  man  in  the 
road,  who  was,  I  suppose,  performing  some  vow.     He 


DAVID  COIT   SCUDDER.  189 

had  in  his  hands  a  little  basket,  adorned  with  flowers. 
Keeping  it  in  his  hand,  he  rolled  over  and  over  on  the 
ground,  muttering  something  to  himself,  looking  the 
very  picture  of  deluded  superstition.  Poor  fellow  ! 
And  oh,  these  beggars !  that  ah !  ah  !  at  you  from 
the  corners  of  the  streets,  and  the  horrid  cripples  and 
lepers  that  hold  out  stumps  of  arms  and  awful  deformi- 
ties for  you  to  see  —  they  haunt  one  ! 

[to    rev.  EVARTS    SCUDDER.] 

....  Madras  is  a  city  of  magnificent  distances  ;  one 
can  go  ten  miles  in  most  any  direction.  Royapuram 
is  a  suburb  where  Mr.  Hunt  lives.  It  is  a  beautiful 
place,  full  of  nice  green  gardens  and  cocoa-nut  forests. 
Walk  half  a  mile  from  his  house,  and  you  are  in  a 
wood  that  reminds  you  at  once  of  pictures  of  South 
American  forests.  Magnificent  cocoa-nut  palms  wave 
their  spreading  heads,  tamarind-trees  cast  their  thick 
shadows  about,  bamboos  bend  and  bow  so  easily,  and 
occasionally  you  see  the  long,  pendent  shoots  of  the 
banian,  —  all  glvlno;  an  air  of  sloom.  In  the  trees  vou 
can  see  men  climbing  about,  getting  the  sap,  and  at 
short  distances  are  native  villages,  with  mud-walled, 
thatch-roof  houses.  Did  I  write  about  a  visit  here  on 
Sunday  ?  I  will  now,  at  any  rate.  About  four  in  the 
afternoon  Mr.  Hunt  and  I  rode  out,  sending  the  cate- 
chist  before  us.  We  stopped  on  the  border  of  this 
forest,  and  walked  a  little  way  to  the  preaching-place. 
This  is  a  mud  house,  whitewashed,  only  one  bare 
room.     The  windows  are  grated  with  thick  iron  bars. 

One  door  forms  a  sure  protection,  as  once  found 

to  his  comfort  when  set  on  by  an  excited  mob.     We 
went  In  and  sat  down  on  a  bench.     Two  young  men 


190  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

then  sang  a  Tamil  hymn,  and  people  began  to  come 
and  look  in.  Before  long  we  had  quite  an  audience, 
marks  on  their  foreheads  showing  them  to  be  heathen. 
The  catechist  preached  ;  the  men  listened  well,  often 
nodding  their  heads  in  approval.  Two  boys  making 
some  noise  in  play,  a  queer-looking  man  got  up,  caught 
them  by  the  little  knot  of  hair  on  their  heads,  and 
hauled  them  out-doors.  Outside,  close  by  the  preacher, 
were  crowded  a  dozen  people,  —  men,  women,  and 
babies,  —  standing  off,  or  pressing  their  faces  against  the 
iron  bars,  seemingly  eager  to  catch  every  word,  and 
caring  nothing  for  the  strangers.  A  capital  audience  ; 
and  how  know  we  but  that  a  seed  dropped  into  good 
soil  ? 

In  about  half  an  hour  we  walked  out,  and  pur- 
sued our  way  to  the  Tinnevelly  Settlement  in  the 
Forest,  boys  and  men  pressing  eagerly  about,  asking  for 
tracts.  The  catechist  came  with  us,  and  pointed  out 
a  good  place  to  preach  in.  So  we  stopped,  and  the 
catechist,  standing  at  the  root  of  a  tree,  began  to  read 
a  "  proclamation."  Several  people  were  about  and 
stopped  to  listen.  Others  passing  turned  aside,  —  men 
with  big  burdens  on  their  backs,  women  carrying 
water.  Before  long  a  large  audience,  perhaps  thirty, 
were  standing  in  quiet  attention,  when  a  man  bear- 
ing a  brass  pot  came  up,  elbowed  his  way  through 
the  people,  put  down  his  pot,  and  stood  looking  at  the 
catechist  with  folded  arms.  Pretty  soon  he  began  to 
look  excited,  and  in  a  few  moments  broke  out  into  a 
perfect  storm  of  passionate  words,  fierce  gesticulation, 
and  scowling  looks.  I  never  in  my  life  saw  such  a  pict- 
ure of  Satanic  rage  and  fury.  He  fumed  and  fretted 
as  if  actually  possessed  of  the  devil ;  his  face  was  most 


DAVID   COIT   SCUDDER.  191 

fiendish.  I  could  hardly  understand  a  word,  but  could 
easily  guess  the  purport  of  what  he  said.  He  declaimed 
for  a  long  while,  without  paying  the  slightest  heed  to 
the  catechist.  At  last  he  lost  his  breath,  and  gave 
others  a  chance  to  speak.  Who  should  oppose  him 
and  defend  the  truth  ?  Not  a  single  Christian  was 
present  save  us  three.  Who  should  step  forward, 
right  in  front  of  the  man,  and  take  up  the  gauntlet, 
but  a  bright  boy,  about  fifteen  years  old  !  Manly  fel- 
low, he  was  not  a  member  of  any  church,  but  in  some 
of  the  mission  schools  he  had  learned  enough  of  Christ 
and  Christianity  to  know  that  this  man  was  an  ignorant 
defamer,  and  he  meant  to  defend  the  truth  against 
him.  So  he  did  ;  and,  I  tell  you,  I  got  as  excited  as 
could  be,  fairly  trembling  as  I  stood  and  looked  on. 
Then  a  man  with  a  huo;e  bundle  loosed  his  load  and 
put  in  a  word,  well,  too,  for  he  got  the  laugh  on 
the  man  from  the  whole  crowd.  It  was  soon  clear 
that  the  man  met  with  no  favor  from  those  present, 
who  knew  him  to  be  a  pestilent  intermeddler.  The 
catechist  himself  was  known  in  the  village,  and  re- 
spected even  by  the  heathen.  Mr.  Hunt  closed  the 
dispute  by  stepping  up  to  the  man  and  handing  him  a 
tract  on  repentance,  when  the  company,  now  fifty  or 
more,  dispersed.  The  whole  scene  was  very  impres- 
sive.    So  the  gospel  fares. 

[It  will  be  remembered  that  my  brother  had  engaged 
to  correspond  with  such  schools  as  should  contribute  to 
the  support  of  native  schools  in  the  Madura  Mission. 
The  followincr  is  the  first  of  a  series  of  letters  written 
under  this  plan  ;  and  while  of  later  date,  it  relates  to 
scenes  in  Madras,  so  that  it  properly  belongs  in  this 


192  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

chapter.  I  give  it  entire,  although  there  is  sometimes 
repetition  of  what  has  appeared  in  tlie  jonrnaL  With 
this  letter  closes  the  account  of  the  stay  in  Madras.] 

DiNDiGAL,  India,  Aug.  6,  1861. 

My  dear  young  Friends,  —  Here  I  am  at  last,  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  globe  from  you,  under  a  differ- 
ent sky,  and  among  strange  faces.  Before  I  left  home 
I  promised  you  that  I  would  try  to  write  you  a  letter 
about  my  voyage  to  India,  and  the  things  I  first  saw 
there.  I  am  spared  to  reach  India,  but  how,  what 
shall  I  write  ?  Did  you  ever  try  to  pour  water  out  of 
a  small  narrow-necked  bottle?  what  a  rattlino;  and 
gurgling  it  makes !  Just  such  a  bottle  am  I,  —  full 
enough  of  things  to  say,  but  so  very  full  that  they  roll 
ever  one  another  in  great  confusion  if  I  try  to  pour 
them  out.  So  this  time  you  must  let  me  gurgle  a 
little. 

I  have  so  much  to  say  about  India  that  I  shall  have 
to  leave  out  all  about  the  oceans  that  we  crossed,  the 
ships  w^e  met  and  bowed  to,  the  big  whales  we  saw, 
the  birds  we  caught  with  fish-hooks,  the  stormy  winds, 
when  the  great  waves  rushed  in  over  the  ship,  and  the 
hot,  still  days,  when  the  great  ocean  was  as  smooth  as 
a  mill-pond.  Read  the  107th  Psalm,  and  you  will 
have  a  good  picture  of  life  at  sea.  Through  all  God 
kept  us.  For  more  than  one  hundred  days  we  sailed 
along  without  once  seeing  green  grass,  or  even  barren 
sand,  until,  one  fine  morning,  the  cry  came  down  to  us 
from  the  mast-head.  Land  ho !  How  we  did  cheer  and 
rush  to  get  a  sight !  We  strained  our  eyes,  and  there, 
away  off  over  the  water,  was  a  dim  blue  line  —  land  at 
last,  hills  in  India.     The  wind  was  blowing  us  quickly 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  193 

toward  it,  and  soon  we  could  catch  the  form  of  other 
hills,  and  then  the  beach,  the  white  sand  glistening  in 
the  sun,  and  there  were  trees  —  yes,  living  trees  —  tall 
cocoa-nut  palms  waving  their  feathery  leaves  in  the 
mornino;  breeze.  There  's  a  village  !  "  What!  that? 
how  muddy  it  looks."  Yes,  and  well  it  may,  for  all 
houses  in  India  are  built  of  mud.  "But  see  those 
black  things  all  around  us  on  the  water  ;  why,  there  's 
a  man  on  them,  on  every  one!  what  can  they  be?" 
Those  are  boats,  made  of  three  logs  tied  together ;  they 
are  called  catamarans^  which  means  "  tied  trees." 
They  are  fishing- boats,  and  those  men  who  look  as  if 
they  were  dressed  in  black,  but  are  really  dressed  in 
nothing,  are  the  fishermen.  Here  they  come  along- 
side, with  fish  to  sell.  But  we  can't  stop  to  look  at 
them,  for  there,  just  coming  in  sight,  is  Madras,  where 
we  are  to  land.  We  can  see  plainly  the  ships  lying  at 
anchor,  the  flag  flying  in  the  fort,  the  tall  towers  of 
Mohammedan  mosques,  and,  what  is  still  more  pleas- 
ing, the  steeples  of  Christian  churches.  Soon  the  cap- 
tain gives  orders  to  cast  anchor,  we  hear  a  tremendous 
rattling  of  chain,  down  goes  the  anchor  to  the  bottom 
of  the  sea,  and  our  long  voyage  is  over. 

Soon  other  larger  but  very  odd-looking  boats  row  up 
to  us,  and  in  one  of  them  comes  Mr.  Hunt,  the  mis- 
sionary printer  ;  we  are  glad  to  see  him,  for  he  brings 
us  letters  from  home,  which  we  left  four  months  ago. 
If  you  want  to  know  how  blessed  a  thing  it  is  to  get 
good  news  from  a  far  country,  come  to  India  and  see. 
We  sat  down  at  once,  tore  open  our  letters,  found  all 
were  w^ell  at  home,  and  then  made  ready  to  go  ashore. 
We  pack  up  our  last  bundle,  bid  good-bye  to  the  cap- 
tain and  all  the  sailors,  climb  down  into  the  boat,  push 

13 


194  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

off,  turn  back  to  look  once  more  at  the  good  ship  which 
has  borne  us  safely  so  long,  wave  our  handkerchiefs,  and 
in  fifteen  minutes  are  standing  on  "  India's  coral 
strand."  Then  we  are  glad.  Now,  let  us  have  a  good 
night's  sleep,  rocked  to  rest,  not  by  tossing  waves  but 
by  happy  thoughts,  and  to-morrow  we  will  take  our 
first  walk  in  India,  to  see  what  we  shall  see. 

Well,  morning  comes  in  India  just  as  it  does  in 
America.  We  wake  up,  dreaming  that  all  the  crows 
in  India  are  having  a  grand  meeting  right  outside  the 
house,  —  such  a  terrible  cawing  !  We  get  up  and 
look  out,  and  there,  perched  on  top  of  houses  and  walls, 
and  wheeling  about  in  the  air,  are  hundreds  of  noisy 
crows ;  they  are  as  plenty  here  as  doves  at  home,  very 
tame  and  very  troublesome.  The  natives  call  them 
"  Ka-ka  ;  "  a  good  name,  is  n't  it  ?  After  scolding  at 
the  crows,  which  only  makes  them  scold  back,  we  set 
out  for  a  walk. 

The  first  thing  we  notice  is  four  little  children  play- 
ing in  the  sand,  —  little  nut-brown  bodies,  how  oddly 
they  look.  I  wonder  whether  they  know  how  to  smile. 
I  '11  stop  and  try.  Yes,  sure  enough,  they  all  smile 
back,  showing  their  clear  white  teeth.  That 's  a  good 
sign  ;  for  if  a  boy  or  girl  knows  how  to  smile,  there 
must  be  some  good  in  them  —  don't  you  think  so  ? 
Well,  walk  on.  Here  come  some  women  carrying 
their  babies  ;  and  how,  do  you  think  ?  In  their  arms  ? 
no.  Do  they  ride  puss-back  ?  no ;  they  ride  astride  of 
their  mother's  hips,  or  else  across  their  father's  shoul- 
ders. And  what  a  queer  dress  the  people  wear :  the 
men  all  dress  in  white,  though  some  have  only  a  cloth 
tied  around  their  waist.  The  women  like  gay  colors, 
and  if  they  can  have  a  red  cloth,  feel  quite  grand. 


DAVID  COIT   SCUDDER.  195 

Then  they  wear  ornaments :  bracelets  of  wax  or  of 
glass  or  brass,  rings  on  their  fingers  and  toes,  bracelets 
on  their  ankles,  rings  in  their  noses  and  in  their  ears. 
You  see  little  girls  going  about  with  a  great  hole  in 
their  ears,  kept  open  by  a  roll  of  leaf  as  large  as  a 
quarter  of  a  dollar.  Nearly  all  the  men  shave  their 
heads  ;  some  leave  a  little  tuft  on  top,  others  on  the 
sides  ;  most  all  go  bareheaded,  and  look  very  droll, 
with  their  smooth  heads  shining  in  the  sun. 

But  what  is  this  strange-looking  cart  coming  ?  It  is 
called  a  bandy,  and  looks  for  all  the  world  like  a  little 
girl's  Quaker  bonnet  on  two  wheels.  It  is  drawn  by 
two  oxen,  or  bullocks  as  they  are  called.  Some  of 
you  boys  would  laugh  to  see  the  way  the  natives  drive. 
The  driver  sits  on  the  pole  of  the  cart,  and  holds  in  his 
hands  the  reins,  which  pass  through  the  nostrils  of  the 
bullock.  He  keeps  his  hands  on  the  bullocks'  backs, 
and  if  he  wants  to  go  fast,  kicks  them  with  his  naked 
feet ;  if  faster  still,  twists  their  tails,  all  the  while  talk- 
ing to  them  in  a  queer  way. 

We  are  on  the  opposite  of  the  world  from  America, 
so  we  must  expect  that  many  things  will  be  different 
here  from  things  at  home.  I  might  tell  you  of  many 
strange  ways  of  working  the  people  have.  While  I 
am  writing,  a  tailor  is  sitting  close  by  ;  if  you  watch 
him,  you  will  see  that  he  sews  by  pushing  the  needle 
from  him  instead  of  towards  him,  as  you  girls  do. 
When  the  people  milk  the  cows,  they  always  sit  on  the 
left-hand  side,  not  on  the  right.  It  is  not  thought 
wrong  to  walk  into  a  gentleman's  house  with  your  hat 
on,  but  it  would  never  do  to  go  in  without  taking 
oflP  your  shoes  ;  nor  must  you  ever  go  away  from  a 
house  before  you  are  told  to.     Which  of  you  boys  or 


196  LIFE  AND   LETTERS   OF 

girls  is  number  one  at  school  ?  If  you  should  tell  a 
Hindu  scholar  that  you  are  number  one,  he  would 
think  you  were  at  the  foot  of  the  class.  If  there  are 
twenty  boys  in  a  class,  number  twenty  is  at  the  head. 
So,  when  the  Bible  tells  us  that  Elisha  was  ploughing 
with  twelve  yoke  of  oxen,  himself  with  the  twelfth,  it 
means,  in  our  way  of  counting,  that  he  was  with  the 
first. 

But  I  forget ;  we  are  taking  a  walk.  Do  you  no- 
tice how  all  the  people  you  meet  have  marks  on  their 
foreheads  ?  here  are  some  wdio  have  three  marks  of 
yellow  and  white,  up  and  down.  Here  are  others, 
that  have  a  broad  mark  across  their  foreheads,  and 
even  on  their  breasts  and  arms ;  others  have  a  spot  as 
large  as  a  five-cent  piece  just  above  their  noses,  and 
others  a  blue  line  running  down  their  noses.  What 
are  they  for  ?  They  are  sacred  marks,  showing  wdiat 
god  the  people  who  wear  them  w^orship.  They  are 
made  with  ashes  or  chalk,  and  are  rubbed  on  every 
morning ;  but  some  of  the  marks  are  rubbed  in  so  deep 
that  no  w^ashing  can  take  them  out ;  so  I  have  seen 
some  Christians  here,  who  were  once  heathen,  wearing 
these  marks  still.  They  are  the  old  marks,  and  as 
those  can  never  be  washed  away  till  death,  so  many 
spots  on  their  soul  shall  not  be  clean  gone  till  they  pass 
to  where  the  pure  live,  and  have  on  their  foreheads  a 
new  name  wa-itten.  There  are  no  marks  on  your  fore- 
heads ;  are  there  any  on  your  souls  ?  The  Roman 
Catholics  here  mark  their  foreheads  with  the  cross, 
and  well  show  by  that  how  like  the  heathen  they 
still  are. 

But  we  have  taken  a  long  walk,  and  the  sun  is  up  ; 
it  will  not  do  to  stay  out  late  in  this  hot  country,  for 


DAVID   COIT   SCUDDER.  197 

the  sun  is  scorching.  We  have  seen  no  temple  as  yet ; 
let  us  look  out  for  one  on  the  way  back.  Just  before 
you  turn  into  the  missionary  house,  on  the  left-hand 
side  of  the  road,  you  see  a  man  turning  round  and 
round,  bowing  and  muttering  over  something.  What 
is  he  about  ?  Go  a  little  nearer,  and  there,  hidden  be- 
hind some  trees,  you  see  a  small  whitewashed  house. 
In  front  of  where  the  man  is  standincr  is  a  hole  in  the 
wall,  about  two  feet  square,  and  inside  it  sits  a  great 
black  dirty  -  looking  image,  with  a  garland  of  red 
flowers  around  its  neck.  Look  carefully  and  see  if  you 
can  tell  the  name  of  the  image.  Do  you  remember 
the  story  I  told  you  about  the  god  with  an  elephant's 
head  ?  this  is  the  one,  for  you  can  see  his  trunk  as  he 
holds  it  in  his  hand.  Was  n't  it  strange  that  it  should 
be  the  first  idol  I  saw  in  India  ?  It  made  me  think  of 
the  many  Sunday-schools  to  which  I  had  told  the  story, 
but  here  really  was  that  idol ;  yes,  and  here  was  a  real 
man  praying  to  it.  Of  course,  I  knew  before  that  real 
men  did  such  things,  yet  I  had  never  seen  one  till  now. 
There  he  was,  joining  his  hands  together,  bowing  down 
and  saying  his  prayers  to  that  black  stone.  Poor  man  ! 
do  you  truly  believe  that  such  a  thing  as  that  can  hear 
you  or  do  you  good  ?  I  could  not  talk  to  him,  for  I 
did  not  know  his  language ;  so  I  stood  and  looked  and 
wondered.  Pretty  soon  he  walked  around  to  the  front 
side,  where  was  another  stone  imag-e.  He  bowed  to 
that  with  his  face  to  the  ground,  turned  round  five  or 
six  times,  and  bowed  again,  and  was  doing  so  when  I 
left  him  and  went  into  the  house. 

How  do  you  suppose  that  temple  happened  to  be  in 
just  that  place  ?  Some  years  ago  there  was  a  large  well 
on  the  spot ;  some  priests  spread  a  report  that  at  the  bot- 


198  LIFE  AND    LETTERS   OF 

torn  of  that  well  was  a  god,  and  that  he  wanted  to  be 
brought  up  and  worshipped.  So  they  called  a  great 
crowd  of  people  together,  had  a  feast,  said  prayers,  and 
then  sent  some  one  down  into  the  well.  Down  he 
went,  and  after  a  time  came  back,  bringing,  to  be  sure, 
the  god  with  him.  Then  the  people  shouted  out,  and 
said  that  the  god  must  have  a  temple  on  that  very  spot. 
So  they  set  to  work,  the  people  giving  money ;  and  the 
building  I  saw  was  the  temple  which  they  put  up  for 
this  god. 

Since  I  began  this  letter,  I  have  been  out  with  some 
other  missionaries,  to  preach  to  the  heathen  in  another 
place.  On  the  way  back  I  saw  what  was  a  new  sight 
to  me.  Under  a  large  tree  were  some  idols ;  all 
around  the  tree  were  swings  made  of  wood,  hung  upon 
wooden  frames  about  six  feet  high.  What,  think  you, 
were  they  for  ?  they  were  put  there  for  the  gods  to 
swing  on  !  Every  dark  night,  say  the  people,  when 
the  wind  blows  high,  the  gods  come  out  and  have  a 
swing ;  we  can't  see  them,  because  it  is  dark,  but  we 
can  hear  the  swings  creak  as  they  sway  back  and 
forth. 

Now  I  must  stop ;  but  what  have  I  written  this  long 
letter  to  you  for  ?  can  you  answer  ?  Because  you  prom- 
ised me  that  if  I  would  write  you  three  or  four  times 
a  year,  you  would  give  enough  money  to  keep  a  Chris- 
tian school.  In  these  schools  the  children  will  be 
taught  not  to  bow  down  to  stones,  but  to  the  living 
God.  Do  you  not  think  that  they  need  to  be  taught 
this? 

I  have  not  told  you  about  these  schools  yet,  because 
I  had  so  much  else  to  write  about.  In  my  next  letter 
I  shall  try  to.     And  now  don't  forget  your  pennies, 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  199 

and  when  you  drop  them  into  the  contribution-box, 
wrap  each  one  up  in  a  prayer  to  God  that  He  will 
make  them  do  good  for  the  little  heathen  children  in 
India. 

Your  affectionate  friend, 

David  C.  Scudder. 


200  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 


CHAPTER  XL 

JOURNEY  FROM  MADRAS  TO  MADURA. 

[16  July— 10  August,  1861.] 

[The  district  in  which  the  missionaries  were  to  be 
estabHshed  was  that  of  Madura,  farther  down  the  penin- 
sula, and  whose  chief  city  with  the  name  of  the  district 
is  about  three  hundred  miles  distant  from  Madras.  By 
taking  a  route  somewhat  circuitous  they  could  avail 
themselves  of  the  railway  as  far  as  Salem,  about  a  hun- 
dred and  seventy  miles  from  Madras,  and  visit  on  the 
way  the  Vellore  Mission.  Mr.  Webb  and  family  trav- 
elled with  them  as  far  as  his  own  station  at  Dindigal. 
The  narrative  of  the  journey  is  contained  as  usual  in 
his  journal.  The  first  date  is  the  fourth  day  from 
Madras.] 

[journal  letter.] 
Mallur,  Government  Bungalow,  July  1 9. 
....  We  set  off  on  Tuesday  the  16th  for  Madura 
vid  the  Scudders  at  the  Arcot  Mission.  Of  course 
this  involved  a  temporary  surrender  of  our  Oriental- 
ism, as  the  only  way  to  get  there  is  by  rail ;  we  left  at 
3  p.  M.  and  reached  Vellore  at  8.30  p.  m.  ;  the  dis- 
tance is  about  eighty  miles  over  a  flat  tame  country, 
the  only  thing  noticeable  being  the  occasional  rice- 
fields  and  the  more  frequent  temples.  Vellore  is  well 
known  in  Anglo-Indian  history  as  the  seat  of  what  is 
called  the  Vellore  Mutiny  of  1808,  when  the  garrison 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  201 

was  murdered.  We  reached  Silas  Scudder's  at  ten, 
had  supper  and  went  to  bed.  The  Scudders  all  have  a 
punkah  pulled  over  them  during  the  nights  of  the  hot 
season,  and  so  the  man  began  on  us.  It  vras  really  so 
cool  that  we  did  n't  need  the  new  breeze,  so  I  went  out 
and  said  to  the  man,  Venddm.  Po  !  Most  invaluable 
words  are  these,  which  I  would  advise  every  new-comer 
in  India  to  commit  to  memory  as  his  first  lesson  in 
Tamil.  Venddm.  Po  !  —  that  is,  "  Don't  want.  Go  !  " 
So  I  said  "  Don't  want.  Go !  "  to  the  punkah-man. 
He  looked  rather  disconcerted,  but  I  turned  in.  Soon 
I  heard  the  grunt  which  every  native  uses  when  he 
wants  your  notice.  The  punkah-man  was  back  and 
said,  "  Master  hired  punkah  for  the  night."  Not  wish- 
ing to  have  a  bother  and  cheat  the  man  out  of  his 
wages  I  let  him  pull,  and  pull  he  did  all  night.  Think 
of  it,  what  an  intellectual  operation.  It  was  really  too 
cold,  and  waking  every  once  in  a  while,  there  was  the 
punkah  swinging  over  our  heads  ;  —  it  was  oppressive 
to  think  of  that  man. 

About  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning  I  made  out  to 
take  a  breath  and  a  walk,  my  first  walk  in  the  country. 
The  garden,  or  compound,  as  they  call  it  here,  is  full  of 
large  mango-trees,  somewhat  like  our  apple-trees,  but 
larger  and  more  beautiful.  I  wandered  about  breath- 
ing in  huge  mouthfuls  of  the  delicious  morning  air. 
Butterflies  flitted  about ;  bugs  of  every  color  crawled ; 
lizards  kept  dodging  round  the  trees.  As  I  was  going 
along  a  path  I  was  stopped  by  a  crowd  of  black  ants ; 
they  were  travelling  back  and  forth  on  an  ant-road  as 
if  on  some  matter  of  life  and  death.  I  watched  them 
awhile  and  then  tried  to  trace  their  way.  One  end  I 
could  not  find,  the  other  I  found  in  a  hole.     It  looked 


202  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

as  if  a  big  colony  were  migrating.  I  amused  myself 
a  long  while  in  stopping  up  the  hole,  laughing  at  their 
bewilderment  and  wondering  at  their  pertinacity. 

....  The  next  day  we  took  the  cars  again  at  10.- 
30  A.  M.  The  ride  was  delightful,  through  a  country 
that  reminded  us  of  Vermont,  the  way  lying  between 
ranges  of  high  hills,  giving  us  now  and  then  beautiful 
reaches  of  rice-fields  of  varying  shades  and  growth  and 
rich  foliage.  Salem  we  reached  at  last ;  Salem  is  a 
pure  Tamil  word.  I  jumped  out,  and  the  first  thing 
that  caught  my  eye  was  what  I  thought  must  be  my 
bandy.  It  proved  to  be,  and  as  I  am  in  a  favorable 
position,  sitting  with  my  feet  on  the  wheels,  let  me 
describe  it.  It  is  called  a  box-bandy,  and  well  called  so. 
H.  says  it  looks  most  like  the  "  Black  Maria  "  [prison- 
cart,  so  called,  in  Boston].  You  enter  by  a  step  behind, 
cab-like.  Inside,  it  is  arranged  nicely :  the  blinds  let 
down  all  around,  above  the  wheels ;  there  are  two 
seats,  one  at  each  end ;  the  sides  are  lined  with  cane ; 
a  cane  seat,  movable,  also  falls  down  from  each  side,  so 
as  wholly  to  cover  the  empty  space,  thus  making  a  good 
place  for  a  mattress.  The  bandy  is  about  five  feet 
ten  inches,  by  three  feet  six  inches.  A  slide  lifts  up  so 
as  to  give  the  space  under  the  driver's  seat  to  stow  away 
your  feet  in.  All  the  room  is  well  taken  up  with  boxes, 
leather  cups  and  straps ;  a  side-board  outside  keeps  off 
mud  and  dirt.  The  color  is  dark  brown,  and  the  whole 
affair  is  well  finished  off'.  With  a  good  pair  of  little 
bullocks  I  can  hold  up  my  head  with  anybody.  To 
be  sure  it  jolts  and  jerks,  very  much  like  a  chaise  of 
home  make,  but  it  is  decidedly  comfortable,  compara- 
tively. 

We  found  bullocks  awaiting  at  the  station,  which  is 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  203 

some  distance  from  the  town,  but  through  a  mistake  no 
cart  except  mine.  We  took  tea  at  the  depot,  and  finally 
started  off  for  the  town.  All  but  Mrs.  Webb  and  the 
baby  were  in  my  bandy ;  they  went  in  the  palanquin, 
w^hich  had  been  provided  as  an  easier  mode  of  travel. 
It  is  picturesque  enough  in  a  moonlight  night  to  see  the 
palanquin  pass  along,  —  the  men  chanting  and  a  bearer 
swinging  his  flaming  torch.  At  Salem  we  found  carts, 
and  disposed  ourselves  for  the  night.  Mrs.  Webb  and 
baby  went  in  the  palkee.  H.,  Sarah  Webb,  and  I  ar- 
ranged ourselves  in  the  bandy.  Mr.  Webb  took  a 
common  cart,  but  did  n't  start  until  after  the  rest  had 
left.  Oh  that  ride !  We  put  our  mattress  in,  but 
little  sleep  had  we,  though  it  was  after  eight  p.  m.  when 
we  started,  and  after  one  when  we  reached  Mallur,  eight 
miles  !  The  novelty  was  enough  to  keep  one  wakeful, 
but  the  ruts  and  rocks  were  added.  Just  as  I  was 
about  "  losing  myself,"  H.  remarked  that  the  oxen  were 
stopping  very  often.  I  thought  they  were  tired,  but  on 
lookino;  out  we  soon  saw  the  reason.  We  seemed  to  be 
in  the  midst  of  a  mud-hole.  The  driver  flung  his  Tamil 
about  profusely,  he  could  talk  no  English.  So  I  had  a 
chance  to  try  my  Tamil  again,  and  I  did  my  best.  I 
made  out  to  discover  that  it  would  be  well  to  get  out 
of  the  bandy.  So  I  got  my  shoes  and  jumped  out.  I 
saw  what  looked  like  a  road  mending  and  walked  on  a 
little  way.  I  soon  satisfied  myself  and  came  back,  got 
H.  and  Sarah  out,  and  we  tramped  on  over  rocks  and 
through  mud,  till  we  reached  the  road  again,  the  bandy 
in  the  mean  while  nearly  upsetting  in  the  same  en- 
deavor. It  was  midnight,  and  what  a  fix  we  were  in ! 
Who  knew  where  we  were  ?  I  did  n't  even  know  the 
name  of  the  place  to  which  we  were  going,  and  we  were 


204  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

nearly  three  hours  already,  and  only  eight  miles  in  all 
to  go.  But  the  man  said  he  knew,  so  in  we  got  again, 
and  after  an  hour's  jolting  we  found  ourselves  at  the 

bungalow. 

Namkal,  Sunday,  July  21. 

We  are  fourteen  miles  from  our  yesterday's  station, 
Miiiisavadi,  which  was  ten  miles  distant  from  Mallur. 
This  morning  I  walked  out  with  Mr.  Webb  and  he 
found  two  congregations  to  preach  to.  I  believe  that  I 
can  do  no  better  Sabbath  work  than  to  have  a  sort  of 
monthly  concert  talk,  as  I  used  to  in  the  old  vestry, 
only  based  on  a  little  better  knowledge.  We  reached 
this  bungalow  about  seven  o'clock  last  evening.  Per- 
haps I  have  not  said  that  a  bungalow  is  a  house  pro- 
vided by  the  English  Government  for  the  accommoda- 
tion of  travellers.  We  find  an  empty  hotel  open  to  us, 
for  which  we  pay  about  twenty-five  cents  a  day ;  of 
course  we  do  our  own  cooking,  and  bring  our  own  beds, 
chairs,  tables,  cots ;  sometimes  crockery  and  cooking 
utensils  are  furnished.  As  we  enter  this  place  the  first 
thing  we  see  is  a  huge  rock,  four  hundred  feet  high, 
topped  with  an  old  fortress  built  by  Hyder  Ali,  now 
deserted.  At  the  base  of  the  rock  is  a  large  tank  of 
water,  and  in  the  centre  of  the  tank  a  sort  of  temple, 
which  is  nearly  covered  when  the  tank  is  full.  Half- 
way down  the  rock  is  another  temple,  which  looked 
quite  prettily  as  we  drove  by  in  the  early  moonlight, 
while  a  band  was  playing  in  its  neighborhood.  The 
village  lies  on  one  side  and  is  quite  populous,  straw- 
thatched  houses  appearing  on  all  sides.  The  bungalow 
is  a  little  distance  off  from  the  village  to  insure  quiet, 
and  quiet  it  is  as  on  any  Sabbath-day  in  New  England. 

At  about  half-past  six  this  morning  Mr.  Webb  and 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  205 

I  sauntered  out  toward  the  village,  looking  for  a  chance 
to  preach.  In  a  minute  or  two  we  came  upon  a  large 
enclosure,  where  we  had  seen  a  great  number  of  native 
carts  the  night  previous.  Most  of  them  had  left, — 
there  is  no  weekly  rest  in  this  land,  —  but  a  few  men 
were  about,  bringing  straw  for  the  oxen  and  preparing 
to  start ;  some  boys  were  idling  around,  while  a  httle 
girl  sitting  on  the  ground  was  feeding  a  still  smaller 
body  with  some  wild  berries.  Here  we  stopped,  and 
Mr.  Webb,  taking  his  little  pocket  Tamil  Testament, 
read  a  verse  or  two  and  talked  to  them.  I  could  only 
catch  a  word  or  two,  such  as  Jesus  Christ,  Saviour,  the 
Son  of  God,  and  Gospel.  The  word  gospel  in  Tamil 
is  not  understood  by  the  common  people,  and  so  Mr. 
Webb  had  to  explain  it,  telling  the  men  that  it  meant 
"  good  news,"  and  then  sketching  what  the  good  news 
was.  I  wish  you  could  have  seen  the  crowd,  or  rather 
little  gathering  ;  there  were  only  about  a  dozen  ;  one 
rather  sinister-looking  man  acted  as  a  sort  of  spokes- 
man, or,  better,  echo,  for  it  is  quite  characteristic  of  the 
people  of  the  country  to  echo  what  you  say.  If  you 
say  to  them,  "  We  are  all  sinners,"  in  response  they  do 
not  express  their  assent  as  we  should  by  a  special  phrase, 
but  catch  the  very  words  and  repeat  them  after  you. 
So  did  this  man,  while  the  others  nodded  their  assent 
to  what  was  said.  This  nodding,  I  might  say,  would 
perhaps  disconcert  a  stranger,  for  universally  here  an 
affirmative  nod  is  a  shake  of  the  head  sideways,  which 
looks  very  much  like  a  disapproval. 

After  talking  about  fifteen  minutes  we  passed  on. 
We  came  soon  to  a  cluster  of  idols.  Hard  by  the  road- 
side, on  a  raised  platform  of  earth  and  stones,  not  more 
than  two  feet  high,  were  five  or  six  black,  oily  stone 


206  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

images.  Most  conspicuous  among  them  was  Pilliyar, 
with  his  elephant  head,  whose  story  I  have  so  often 
told  at  home.  In  front  and  facing  him  was  the  rat 
which  he  is  said  to  ride ;  on  either  side  were  three  or 
four  images  of  the  hooded  snake,  or  cobra,  one  five- 
headed,  others  double,  twisted  together.  Even  such  a 
little  spot  as  that,  usually  under  a  tree,  is  called  a  tem- 
ple. I  have  seen  them  all  along  the  road  since  leaving 
Madras ;  I  had  not  heard  about  them  at  home.  Un- 
sightly looking  things  they  are.  A  little  beyond  was  a 
huge  car  of  some  idol.  It  was  about  thirty  feet  high, 
borne  on  four  enormous  wooden  wheels  and  fisiured  all 
over  with  representations  of  gods.  In  front  was  a  heap 
of  chain  with  which  the  people  drag  it.  Close  by  was 
another  car.  Indeed,  this  must  be  a  holy  place.  Near 
by  was  a  native  cutchery  or  court  and  the  post-office. 
This  is  a  low  whitewashed  house  with  pleasant  porch. 
Here  was  quite  a  gathering,  and  we  went  and  greeted 
the  men.  They  rose  and  made  way  for  us.  Two  or 
three  were  busy  arranging  the  mail,  the  rest  w^ere  look- 
ing on.  We  sat  down  and  asked  the  others  to.  They 
did  so,  squatting  on  the  floor  ;  others,  seeing  the  white 
men,  came  up  and  joined  the  crowd,  and  we  soon  had 
an  audience  of  fifty  or  more.  This  time,  Mr.  Webb 
did  not  exactly  preach  to  them,  but  told  them  the  story 
of  a  man  who  was  converted  on  board  the  ship  which 
took  him  from  India  to  England.  Orientals  love  stories, 
and  all  paid  good  attention,  echoing  his  words  and  nod- 
ding, for  half  an  hour.  We  did  not  wish  to  stay  long 
at  a  public  place  in  business-hours,  and  left  after  a  pro- 
fusion of  salaams  and  interchange  of  courteous  words, 
with  the  intention  of  going  again  this  afternoon.  As 
Mr.  Webb  closed  his  talk,  he  told  the  men  that  just 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  207 

as  they  scattered  the  rice-seed,  so  he  was  sowing  the 
truth  by  grains,  hoping  that  some  would  bring  forth  fruit. 
Indeed  it  is  scattering.  Look  on  the  map  and  find 
Salem  which  we  have  left,  and  Dindigal,  to  which  we 
go.  This  is  a  distance  of  one  hundred  miles,  and  we 
are  now  about  forty  miles  south  of  Salem  ;  in  all  this 
extent  of  one  hundred  miles  not  a  single  missionary  or 
native  catechist  is  to  be  found,  not  a  word  of  gospel 
truth  is  preached  to  the  people,  unless  it  be  by  some 
stray  passer-by,  who  like  us  spends  a  Sabbath  on  the 
way.  Does  it  not  require  a  living  faith  in  that  word 
of  God  which  abideth  forever,  to  look  for  the  regener- 
ation of  a  land  so  sparsely  supplied  with  the  heralds  of 
the  truth  ?  One  Christian  woman  we  found  here.  As 
I  write  this,  she  comes  up  to  the  bungalow,  for  we  are 
to  have  a  little  meeting  now,  —  twelve  o'clock.  She 
has  gone  to  call  more.  —  Meeting  is  over.  There  were 
four  women  and  three  men  present.  One  poor  woman 
was  stupid  enough,  and  I  suppose  never  before  had  a 
thought  of  anything  but  how  to  cook  her  rice. 

Dindigal,  Tuesday,  July  23. 
Well  here  I  am  at  last,  fairly  within  the  boundaries 
of  the  mission-field  where  my  India-life  is  to  be  spent. 
We  arrived  at  eight  this  morning,  after  a  night  ride  of 
forty-five  miles.  I  did  n't  sleep  a  wink  all  night,  spent 
six  miles  of  the  way  in  beating  the  bullocks,  running 
alongside  to  break  their  idea  of  the  respectability  of  a 
Tvalk.     I  have  tried  to   sleep,  but  don't  succeed,  and 

write  to  put  me  in  the  way  of  it Sunday  toward 

dusk,  I  strolled  out  of  the  bungalow-yard.  As  hill 
air  is  always  bracing,  my  legs  soon  carried  me  up  the 
steep  rock  and  into  the  fortress  which  I  have  spoken  of. 


208  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

It  is  rather  a  formidable-looking  affair,  but  wholly  deso- 
late, or  nearly  so  ;  the  gods  alone  hold  it.  A  sculptured 
griffin,  cut  in  the  rock  doorway,  stands  guard.  Passing 
in,  you  turn  several  corners,  and  soon  are  in  the  enclos- 
ure ;  crumbling  buildings  are  all  around,  a  green  water- 
tank  collects  the  frogs,  lizards  crawl  about,  bugs  wink 
at  you,  and  the  only  pleasant  thing  that  greets  you  is  a 
pretty  little  wild  flower,  which  still  clings  in  fondness  to 
the  decaying  fortress.  A  magnificent  view  of  a  well- 
cultivated  country  is  sufficient  reward  for  the  climb, 
and  I  hoped  to  enjoy  it,  as  a  good  sight  of  the  plains  of 
India  that  now  knew  no  Sabbath,  but  should  erelong. 
But  as  I  was  walking  about  I  was  surprised  at  suddenly 
seeing  a  crowd  of  people  coming  out  of  a  building, 
close  by  which  some  flags  were  flying.  They  saw  me ; 
some  ran  back,  the  rest  came  forward,  salaaming  at  a 
great  rate.  I  salaamed  back,  and  the  leader  came  for- 
ward and  stood  waiting.  What  could  I  do  but  bring 
forward  a  little  Tamil  for  their  edification  ?  I  showed 
them  what  I  had  and  they  seemed  pleased  and  showed 
me  theirs.  We  were  soon  good  friends.  They  were 
all  boys,  and  the  oldest,  about  seventeen,  was  a  fine, 
pleasing-looking  boy  whom  I  took  a  fancy  to  at  once. 
He  offered  to  show^  me  about,  so  I  followed  him,  asking 
all  sorts  of  questions,  as  well  as  I  could.  In  the  mid- 
dle of  the  fort  stood  an  old  temple  fast  tumbling  down ; 
at  the  entrance  was  ^a  pillar,  mounted  by  a  frame  for  a 
lamp.  On  two  opposite  sides  were  figures  of  some  idol. 
It  being  probably  a  Mohammedan  fort,  I  thought  that 
the  mark  upon  the  other  sides  must  be  the  hand,  which 
makes  so  large  a  show  in  Mohammedan  symbols ;  so  I 
asked  the  boy.  The  only  reply  was  a  most  contempt- 
uous look  and  a  kick  of  his  foot  against  the  carving. 


DAVID   COIT   SCUDDER.  209 

It  was  really  the  mark  —  a  trident  —  which  all  follow- 
ers of  Siva  w^ear  on  their  foreheads.  He  took  me  inside, 
where  as  usual  elephant-headed  Pilliyar  was  enthroned, 
and  others  by  his  side.  All  greasy  and  disgusting 
enough.  The  boy  was  a  Mussulman  and  he  and  I 
could  agree  on  the  first  article  of  our  creed,  —  one  God. 
We  walked  about,  and  after  a  while  I  sat  down  and 
tried  to  talk  a  little  with  him.  The  whole  company 
stood  about  me,  except  when  sent  off  by  the  sober 
ones  for  snickering  out,  as  most  all  did.  I  made  out 
to  get  at  some  of  his  belief;  one  thing  he  said  was, 
'*  Jesus  is  your  God,  Mohammed  our  God."  I  knew 
that  all  true  Mohammedans  hated  the  title  Son  of  God, 
as  applied  to  Christ,  and  so  purposely  used  it.  He  at 
once  caught  me  up,  and  holding  up  a  finger  said,  — 
"  Only  one  God  ;  how  is  Christ  the  Son  of  God  ?  " 
My  Tamil  was  not  free  enough,  nor  my  purpose  such 
as  to  lead  me  to  reply,  so  I  turned  the  subject.  He 
was  studying  English,  and  as  I  walked  off  with  him, 
expressed  a  wish  to  have  a  book.  So  I  invited  him  to 
go  to  the  bungalow  with  me.  Down  we  went,  the 
whole  troop  of  us,  he  keeping  all  the  boys  from  step- 
ping ahead  of  me  as  we  walked  on.  People  stopped  to 
look  at  us,  and  it  did  look  not  a  little  droll  to  see  me 
heading  a  company  of  some  dozen  little  boys  or  more 
into  the  bungalow-yard.  Mr.  Webb  had  come  back 
from  another  street-talk,  and  I  brought  him  my  congre- 
gation. He  had  another  talk  with  them.  One  thing 
the  boy  told  him  I  never  had  heard  of  before.  He  said 
that  Jesus,  the  prophet,  had  promised  a  Comforter,  and 
that  the  Comforter  was  Mohammed.  Mr.  Webb  gave 
the  boy  a  Testament  and  he  left  us,  pleasing  us  all  by 
his  frank  and  kindly  ways. 
14 


210  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

Time  is  precious,  and  at  midnight  we  were  all  called 
up  to  start  on  a  trip  of  twenty-one  miles  to  a  place  called 
Karur.  The  first  stage  was  twelve  miles  to  the  C^very 
River,  which  we  must  cross.  We  poked  along,  enjoy- 
ing the  jolts,  trying  in  vain  to  coax  a  little  sleep,  until 
3.30  A.  M.,  when  we  reached  the  bank  of  the  river. 
Now  for  a  good  touch  of  Orientalism.  How  do  you 
suppose  we  were  to  cross  ?  Rubbing  our  eyes,  all  we 
could  see  that  looked  like  boats  were  four  concerns  — 
the  most  definite  term  I  know  —  modelled  most  closely 
after  that  well-known  conveyance  in  which  the  wise 
men  of  Gotham  once  sailed.  They  were  four  mam- 
moth saucers,  made  of  slit  bamboo  wicker-work,  twelve 
feet  in  diameter,  three  feet  deep.  This  wicker-work 
was  covered  with  thick  tough  leather,  making  them  al- 
most completely  water-proof.  The  first  to  enter  this 
novel  boat  was  Mrs.  Webb,  in  her  palanquin  ;  with 
many  groans  the  bowl  w^as  tipped  up  on  end,  and  the 
palkee  walked  in.  Next  came  our  bandies.  How  they 
could  be  accommodated  seemed  a  problem.  The  wind 
was  very  high,  and  the  river  swollen,  and  the  head 
boatman  said  that  the  tops  must  be  taken  off  the  com- 
mon carts.  So  they  stripped  off  the  mats,  and,  tipping 
up  the  next  boat,  backed  Mr.  Webb  in,  leaving  out  the 
bullocks.  He  presented  a  most  laughable  appearance, 
sitting  in  his  cart,  the  bare  framework  looking  like  a 
big  cage,  and  the  whole  bobbing  up  and  down.  Our 
turn  came  next.  We  stayed  in  the  bandy,  though  the 
matter  of  boarding  was  so  peculiar.  Our  spirits  kept 
up,  as  we  could  see  no  diiFerence  in  the  boat-level,  and 
we  began  to  have  a  more  favorable  impression  of  Hindu 
navigation.  The  baggage-cart  came  next,  and  when  all 
were  safely  in,  the  men  climbed  in,  three  into  each. 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  211 

The  Webbs'  boat  soon  disappeared  in  the  dusk.  Our 
turft  came,  but  we  did  not  fare  so  well.  Three  times, 
at  least,  after  pushing  off,  we  were  driven  back  by  the 
wind  and  current,  —  as  I  believe,  partly  because  the 
men  were  unwilling  to  go.  I  did  n't  know  an}^  words 
for  managing  such  tubs,  so  I  relieved  my  mind  by  driv- 
ing at  them  in  English.  I  did  not  at  all  relish  the  idea 
of  spending  the  day  there,  as  we  had  eight  miles  to  go 
upon  the  other  side  before  reaching  a  bungalow.  I 
cried  out  to  the  cook  to  help  off,  but  he  said  the  wind 
was  too  high.  But  at  last  we  started  again,  this  time 
the  men  wading  and  pushing  more  by  hand  than  by 
pole.  The  river  was  two  miles  wide,  and  we  were 
three  long  hours  getting  over,  working  up-stream, 
and  then  poling  across,  shallow  enough  all  the  way. 
We  spun  around  like  tops,  and  at  last  reached  the 
other  side. 

They  landed  us  in  a  beautiful  grove  of  cocoa-nut 
trees,  and  Mr.  Webb  hailed  us  with  a  bunch  of  plan- 
tains and  a  young  cocoa-nut,  the  young  milk  of  which 
was  delightfully  refreshing.  Leaving  the  other  carts  to 
come  when  they  could,  we  pushed  ahead  in  our  bandy, 
and  before  long  were  at  the  bungalow,  Karur,  a 
wretchedly  furnished  place.  We  stayed  through  the 
day,  and  at  four  in  the  afternoon  again  set  out  for  a 
night  ride  of  forty-five  miles  to  Dindigal.  In  five 
minutes  we  came  to  a  river  which  we  had  good  fun  in 
crossing.  I  went  in  Mr.  Webb's  cart  to  try  it,  and  my 
bandy  went  before  with  Mr.  Webb,  H.,  and  Sarah. 
We  left  Mrs.  Webb  to  come  later.  In  went  the 
bandy  and  bullocks,  and  twenty  men  about  it,  some 
hauling  the  bullocks,  some  tugging  at  the  wheels,  some 
pushing  behind,  and   all   yelling   and  screaming   and 


212  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

hurrahing  like  mad.  Such  a  droll  sight  I  I  just  look- 
ed on  and  roared  with  laughter.  The  river  is  narrow 
and  shallow,  but  very  swift.  With  the  help  of  our 
friends  we  crossed  safely,  not  wetting  the  bottoms  of 
the  carts.  We  were  cheated  about  our  bullocks,  and 
had  miserable  sets.  I  rode  in  Mr.  Webb's  cart  the 
first  twelve  miles.  That  is,  I  pretended  to,  but  we  got 
worked  up  about  the  lazy  bullocks ;  so  I  got  out  and 
found  a  bamboo,  with  which  I  belabored  the  beasts, 
till  I  showed  them  that  they  could  run  if  they  chose, 
and  for  four  miles  I  ran  beside  them,  beating  and  yell- 
ing like  any  bandy-man.  They  sobered  down  again 
when  I  got  in,  so  that  toward  the  end  I  got  out  and 
ran  another  mile,  and  got  away  out  of  sight  of  my  own 
bandy.  The  next  stage  we  arranged  ourselves  for 
sleep,  Mr.  Webb  and  Sarah  in  his  cart,  H.  and  I  in 
mine.  But  I  could  not  sleep,  and  these  bullocks  were 
still  more  stupid.  Mr.  Webb  went  ahead,  and  was 
soon  out  of  sight.  So  I  got  out  about  midnight,  and 
ran  along  barefoot  looking  for  a  stick,  and  looking  out 
for  snakes.  I  got  in  and  beat  and  cried  out,  but  scared 
the  driver  more  than  the  bullocks,  and  finally  gave  up. 
At  four  o'clock  we  came  up  with  the  relay,  and  this 
time  had  good  bullocks  and  a  good  driver.  Four  miles 
from  Dindigal  we  met  Mr.  White's  bandy  come  to  help 
us  ;  soon  a  man  came  along  to  meet  us,  and,  after  the 
custom  of  the  countrv,  brought  us  each  a  lime  :  if  we 
receive  it  we  are  friends.  The  native  pastor  and  cate- 
chists  had  been  out  to  meet  us,  but  were  going  back. 
Pretty  soon  we  drove  up  to  the  Dindigal  house,  and 
received  the  welcome  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  White.  We 
had  been  a  few  minutes  here,  when  the  Christians  be- 
gan to  come  in,  each  with  a  lot  of  limes,  and  then  they 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  213 

brought  In  garlands  of  fragrant  flowers,  which  they  put 
around  our  necks,  so  that  we  were  soon  decked  out 
like  kings  and  queens  of  May.  Mrs.  Webb  came  by 
twelve,  the  bearers  having  given  out  ten  miles  back, 
after  a  steady  tramp  of  thirty-five  miles.  And  now  we 
are  all  here,  the  Webbs  at  home,  rejoicing  and  praising 
God  that  our  journey  in  a  strange  land  is  over. 

[Dindigal  is  the  station  formerly  occupied  by  the 
Webbs,  now  returning  to  it.  Here  the  others  re- 
mained a  little  more  than  a  fortnight,  detained  awhile 
by  the  non-appearance  of  the  train  of  bandies  contain- 
ing their  goods.  Mr.  Washburn,  whom  the  reader  will 
remember  as  an  old  and  intimate  friend  of  David's,  wel- 
comed them  at  Dindigal,  and  David  returned  with  him 
to  his  station  at  Battalagundu,  twenty  miles  distant, 
and  spent  a  few  days,  talking,  as  he  says,  "  over  old  and 
new  days,  discussing  points  in  mission  work  and  Tamil 
orthoepy  and  pronunciation."  Once  at  work  in  India, 
the  studies  which  had  occupied  his  mind  previously 
were  carried  on  by  observation  and  practical  acquaint- 
ance with  the  Hindu  mind,  rather  than  through  much 
reading.  The  results,  also,  in  the  views  which  he 
formed,  found  little  expression  save  in  familiar  discus- 
sion with  brother  missionaries.  He  took  the  oppor- 
tunity while  in  Dindigal  to  make  a  short  preaching 
tour  with  two  of  the  missionaries ;  but  first  let  him  give 
an  account  of  the  somewhat  noted  Dindigal  rock.] 

[journal  letter,] 

Dindigal,  July  31. 
Dindi-gal  means   round  rock.,  so   named   from  the 
enormous  rock  that  stands  in  the  middle  of  the  valley. 


214  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

Mr.  Webb,  Mr.  White,  and  I  went  up  it  this  morning 
about  half-past  five.  The  rock,  from  its  size  and  precipi- 
tancy, is  an  admirable  natural  fortress,  very  like  the  one 
at  Karur.  But  the  old  rajahs  built  a  large  and  mas- 
sive fort  upon  it,  and  held  it  for  a  long  time  against 
the  English.  The  latter  captured  it  from  Tippoo  Saib, 
and  have  held  it  as  a  garrison  until  lately  ;  now  it  is 
dismantled,  and  is  utterly  desolate.  You  pass  through 
a  gate  which  was  once  the  entrance  to  the  "  lower  fort,'* 
enclosing  a  limited  area  around  the  rock,  and  soon  be- 
gin to  ascend  the  rock  by  the  stone  steps  cut  in  it. 
The  ascent  on  this  side  is  very  gradual,  but  on  all 
others  exceedingly  abrupt.  I  should  say  it  was  about 
as  high  as  Bunker  Hill  Monument,  though  that  is  a 
droll  comparison.  [It  is  the  comparison  of  a  Boston 
boy,  with  whom  the  monument  is  always  the  standard 
by  which  he  measures  height ;  it  is  two  hundred  and 
twenty-eight  feet  high.]  A  great  wall  is  all  around 
the  summit,  and  inside  are  barracks  and  magazines 
and  temples,  for  it  was  a  heathen  fort  once.  Indeed, 
we  have  here  a  good  illustration  of  Scripture.  One  of 
the  temples  is  utterly  robbed  of  its  idols,  and  nothing  is 
in  it  but  clouds  of  bats,  which  make  the  air  so  foul 
that  no  one  can  enter.  But  there  is  little  worth  seeing 
in  the  fort,  except  one  temple  where  some  fine  carving 
in  granite  was  pointed  out.  When  the  fort  was  de- 
serted, all  the  unworthy  cannon  were  hurled  off  the 
precipice  to  be  broken.  It  must  have  been  a  rare 
sight  to  see  them  crashing  down  these  rocks.  The 
view  from  the  rock  is  charmino;.  The  hills  bound  the 
view  everywhere,  some  of  them  only  a  thousand  feet 
lower  than  Mount  Washington  [6200  feet  high] .  Right 
below  are  the  green  rice -fields,  checkered  by  ridges, 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  215 

arranged  for  irrigation.  As  we  sat  on  the  rock,  we 
could  hear  the  peculiar  chant  of  the  water-drawer,  as 
he  walked  up  and  down  the  well-sweep,  while  the 
smoke  curled  up  to  the  sky  from  little  villages  which 
dotted  the  plain  all  about. 

DiNDiGAL,  Monday,  Aug.  5. 

I   have   been  on  a  tour  with   Mr.  Webb  and  Mr. 

White,  leaving  on  Saturday  at  3  p.  m We  visited 

Smoke-leaf  village    [a  place   where  tobacco    is  raised 

extensively] It  was  nearly  dark,  but  we  found 

the  road  filled  with  people  who  had  come  to  greet  Mr. 
Webb.  We  made  our  way  through  them,  salaaming 
on  all  sides,  into  the  church.  The  people  crowded  in 
after  us,  and  stayed  there,  I  might  say,  until  we  left  this 
morning.  We  managed  to  get  them  out  while  we  ate 
supper,  [for  the  church  serves  as  resting-place  to  the 
missionary,  when  there  is  no  bungalow,]  but  every 
grated  window  was  full  of  black  faces,  grinning  with 

wonder  at  our  queer  proceedings At  night  I 

retreated  into  my  box-bandy,  but  was  awaked  from 
sleep  by  a  confused  hum.  Listening,  I  found  that  the 
bandy  was  surrounded  by  women  and  children,  who 
had  given  themselves  to  searching  into  the  construction 
of  every  part.  Not  caring  to  be  myself  fingered  over, 
I  speedily  shut  myself  up,  by  pulling  up  the  shades,  and 
then  let  them  look  and  feel  to  their  hearts'  content.  I 
amused  myself  by  now  and  then  shaking  the  blinds, 
and  hearing  the  young  folk  scamper  away. 

....  I  talked  in  English,  and  Mr.  Webb  inter- 
preted. I  told  the  villagers  about  the  houses  which 
were  built  in  Mammoth  Cave  for  some  people  sick  with 
consumption,  in  the  hope  that  the  even  temperature  of 


216  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

the  place  miglit  benefit  them ;  how,  instead,  It  proved 
their  ruin,  and  how  I  had  heard  that  many  people  in 
India  had  been  led  to  do  just  such  a  foolish  thing  in 
Satan's  den,  and  we  had  come  to  bring  them  a  light 
and  a  looking-glass,  that  they  might  see  for  themselves 
how  badly  off  they  were.  I  did  not  see  but  what  they 
were  as  interested  as  children  at  home  used  to  appear 

at  like  stories These  common  people  speak  so 

in  figures  and  pithy  sentences  that  it  is  difficult  to  un- 
derstand their  drift.  Upon  Mr.  Webb's  urging  that 
he  receive  the  true  faith,  a  man  replied,  "  How  can  we 
know  which  to  follow  ?  Sometimes  you  put  the  bandy 
into  the  boat,  sometimes  the  boat  into  the  bandy," — 
a  saying  which  can  mean  almost  anything,  I  suppose. 

....  In  another  village,  on  Sunday  at  4  p.  m.,  we 
gathered  about  us  some  thirty  people,  the  entire  popula- 
tion. Among  them  was  an  old,  old  man,  skin  and 
bones,  hardly  able  to  sit  upright.  It  was  a  painful 
sight,  for  he  sat  leaning  forward  to  catch  every  word 
uttered.  He  heard ;  can  any  have  done  him  good  ? 
An  old  woman,  too,  was  very  intent  on  Mr.  Webb's 
talk,  —  a  rare  thing  here.  It  was  a  simple  gathering, 
a  few  men  and  women  seated  on  the  ground  before 
three  foreigners,  away  in  that  poor  hamlet,  yet  in  such 
ways  is  mission  labor  expending.  Mr.  Webb  and  Mr. 
White  spoke,  and  the  catechist  examined  the  people  on 
the  Lord's  Prayer.  One  man,  out  of  four  of  the  con- 
gregation, could  stumble  through  it.  It  began  to  rain 
as  we  started  home,  and  forced  us  finally  to  spend  half 
an  hour  under  a  cluster  of  cactus-trees.  Tea  was  ready 
on  our  arrival  at  the  little  church,  and  plenty  of  spec- 
tators. 

....  When  the  service  of  preaching  w^as  over,  the 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  217 

work  of  the  day  was  not.  The  missionary  must  now 
doff  the  surplice,  and  put  on  the  wig.  A  court  is 
speedily  formed,  and  the  judge  calls  for  the  first  case : 
it  is  a  quarrel  between  two  members  of  the  congrega- 
tion about  some  land.  After  half  an  hour's  debate, 
helped  out  by  anybody  and  everybody,  the  judge  gives 
his  decision,  which  is  a  complicated  one,  but  apparently 
satisfactory  to  all  parties.  One  of  them  is  to  receive 
six  rupees  as  indemnity,  and  he  at  once  says  that  he 
will  give  half  of  it  toward  a  new  church  in  a  neigh- 
boring village.  Mr.  Webb  makes  them  join  hands, 
and  all  say  Santosham,  —  Joy,  and  congratulate  one  an- 
other  Other  cases  followed,  but  I  was  tired 

and  moved  into  my  box-bandy.  This  was  a  good  spe- 
cimen of  the  work  which  a  missionary  has  to  do  on  his 
tours.  The  people  are  all  children,  and  they  are 
poorly  brought  up  too,  quarrelsome  and  unprincipled. 
I  never  in  my  life  felt  so  strongly  the  utter  inefficiency 
of  human  means  toward  the  accomplishment  of  the 
object  of  our  coming  here.  Put  where  I  could  see  for 
myself  the  surface  appearance,  the  first  impression  was 
one  of  utter  despair.  I  can't  convey  the  grounds  of  my 
feeling  ;  but  look  at  a  crowd  of  native  men  and  women, 
—  see  their  dull,  passionless  faces,  their  staring,  stupid, 
blank  looks,  with  the  marks  of  devotion  to  a  false  faith 
patent,  —  and  you  ask  yourself  unconsciously.  Can 
these  stones  speak  ?  But  I  believe  a  Christian  cannot 
long  remain  in  this  mood  ;  at  least  I  did  not,  and  it  was 
with  a  positive  sense  of  exhilaration  that  I  looked  upon 
them.  There  was  the  massive  wall,  built  b}^  the  prime 
wisdom  of  the  wicked  one,  appearing  to  grow  larger 
and  more  portentous  as  I  gazed  upon  it.  I  felt  indeed 
my  impotence  as  never  before,  but  there  came  over  me 


218  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

such  an  exalted  view  of  the  simple  might  of  God  that 
the  obstacle  seemed  already  gone.  "  Who  art  thou,  0 
great  mountain  ?  before  Zerubbabel  thou  shalt  become 
a  plain."  I  believe  this  is  the  natural  feeling  of  one 
placed  as  I  was ;  certainly  I  felt  thankful  for  it,  and 
the  hour  passed  pleasantly  as  I  thought  how  the  bare 
word  of  God,  if  accompanied  by  the  Spirit,  could  pre- 
vail against  the  whole  force  of  Satan.  I  thought  of  my 
future  field,  and  how  the  success  of  the  truth  there  de- 
pended primarily  upon  our  faith  in  prayer,  and  I  deter- 
mined to  send  home  for  help  in  this  one  thing,  —  help 
which  you  can  render  us  as  well  as  any  Christians  upon 
this  side  of  the  globe.  We  must  have  it.  It  will  be 
lono-  before  the  India  Church  reaches  the  streno;th  of 
manhood.  But  why  should  we  be  discouraged  ?  Can 
the  labor  of  fifty  years  produce  in  India  what  the 
work  of  eighteen  hundred  and  fifty  years  has  effected 
in  western  lands  ?  We  are  wonderfully  blessed,  when 
we  think  of  the  paltry  means  at  command.  Increase 
the  agency  if  you  are  dissatisfied  with  present  results, 
but  be  not  dissatisfied.  No  missionary  thinks  of  any- 
thing else  than  of  giving  thanks  to  God  for  His  wonder- 
ful workings. 

Madura,  Aug.  12. 
....  At  last  I  am  at  Madura,  the  king  of  cities 
and  city  of  kings.  It  is  the  finest  city  in  South  India, 
and  the  seat  of  an  ancient  and  powerful  dynasty.  But 
I  must  tell  you,  first,  not  what  the  city  is,  but  how  I  got 
here.  We  left  Dindigal  on  Friday  afternoon,  August 
9,  having  been  detained  by  the  non-arrival  of  the  carts 
containing  our  goods.  I  went  in  my  bandy.  H.  tried 
the  palanquin,  as  the  road  was  bad,  and  a  palanquin 
was  at  Dindigal  which  belonged  at  Madura.     I  left  at 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  219 

5.30  for  a  drive  of  thirty-eight  miles  ;  bullocks  had 
been  posted  every  seven  miles.  H.  was  to  go  with  one 
set  of  men  as  far  as  Vadapatti,  sixteen  miles  from 
Madura,  and  to  leave  an  hour  after  me.  I  got  along 
very  well  as  far  as  Vadapatti.  There  Savarimuttu, 
(^Xavier  Tamilized,)  our  faithful  maty  or  head-servant, 
[who  had  been  engaged  at  Dindigal,]  had  gone  the  day 
before  to  see  his  family,  and  I  found  him  with  the  bul- 
locks. I  had  told  him  to  wait  and  accompany  H.  to 
Madura.  But  I  got  there  first,  and  what  was  I  to  do  ? 
The  relay-bearers  that  I  had  sent  for  from  Madura 
were  not  there,  and  H.  could  not  go  on  without  them. 
It  was  midnight.  I  hesitated  awhile,  but,  confident 
that  they  would  come  in  time,  I  went  on,  telling  Savari- 
muttu to  take  good  care  of  Ammdl,  (mistress,)  and  that 
I  should  send  bearers  on  if  I  did  not  meet  them  on  the 
road.     So,  with  no  little  misgivings,  I  drove  ahead. 

Nine  miles  more  and  we  should  come  to  the  river 
which  runs  by  Madura,  and  is  sometimes  quite  full.  I 
should  have  had  bullocks  half-way  to  Madura,  but  by  a 
blunder  failed  to  post  them.  The  bullocks  were  soon 
fagged  out,  and  by  the  time  we  reached  the  river  were 
really  ready  to  drop.  It  was  about  half-past  three  in 
the  morning,  and  never  a  wink  had  I  slept  thus  far 
over  this  horrible  road.  The  river  certainly  did  not 
look  very  formidable,  not  more  than  quarter  of  a  mile 
wide,  and  half  of  that  dry.  After  a  good  deal  of 
shouting  and  tail-twisting  and  beating,  the  bandy-man 
made  out  to  get  about  ten  feet  forward.  The  bullocks 
then  seemed  very  much  inclined  to  lie  down.  Not 
relishing  such  an  episode  in  my  trip,  I  thought  it  high 
time  to  use  my  powers  of  persuasion  ;  so  I  climbed 
through  the  front  window  on  to  the  driver's  seat,  and 


220  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

took  the  whip,  the  driver  taking  the  reins  and  pulling. 
I  shouted  and  yelled,  punched  and  flogged,  (I  am  not 
yet  an  adept  in  tail-twisting,)  while  the  driver  tugged 
and  tried  to  cajole  the  yoke  into  proper  practices ; 
then  he  gave  me  the  reins,  and  I  jerked  so  hard  that 
something  gave  way.  Was  it  the  bullock's  nostril? 
fortunately  not.  Then  I  whipped  off  the  lash,  and 
sent  the  driver  fumbling  for  it  in  the  bottom  of  the 
river,  in  vain ;  then  I  broke  the  bamboo  stock,  and 
took  the  reins  again.  Finally,  in  despair,  I  rolled  up 
my  trousers,  jumped  in,  and  put  my  shoulder  to  the 
wheel.  This  was  successful,  and  we  reached  the  shore 
in  safety,  with  the  loss  of  the  driver's  whip  and  my 
voice.  But  in  the  midst  of  the  river  I  had  time 
enough  to  chuckle  over  the  droll  figure  I  cut,  and 
to  think  of  you  orderly  people  at  home. 

The  bullocks,  after  that,  made  out  occasionally  to 
get  into  a  walk,  but  at  daybreak  I  became  discouraged, 
and  got  out,  bound  to  walk  into  Madura,  and  scare  up 
some  bearers  for  poor  H.  So  I  Avalked  ahead,  looking 
at  the  tall  towers  of  the  great  temple  here,  as  they 
loomed  up  boldly  in  front,  pointing  out  where  the  city 
lay.  But  a  mile  on  I  was  met  by  a  man  driving  a  pair 
of  bullocks.  He  bowed  to  the  ground,  and,  guessing 
his  business,  I  asked  him,  and  found  that  Mr.  Rendall 
had  sent  on  these  bullocks  to  meet  me.  So  I  walked 
back  to  my  bandy,  and  then  drove  into  Madura  in  fine 
style,  reaching  it  a  little  after  six.  The  first  thing  to 
do  was  to  inquire  about  bearers.  I  found  that  no 
bearers  were  to  be  had,  as  the  Rajah  of  Puthucotta,  an 
independent  prince,  was  on  a  royal  pilgrimage  to  the 
famous  shrines  of  Southern  India,  to  have  his  little 
girl's  hair  cut  by  the  temple  Brahmans,  and  he  had 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  221 

engaged  all  the  bearers  for  his  suite.  The  only  thing 
to  be  done  was  to  send  back  the  bandy  and  post  bul- 
locks for  H. ;  this  we  did,  and  she  finally  arrived.  So 
we  are  safely  here. 

[The  new  missionaries  were  most  cordially  welcomed 
by  the  mission  circle  here..  With  some  David  was 
already  acquainted,  Mr.  Capron,  his  Andover  friend, 
residing  in  Madura  at  that  time;  and  with  all  they 
were  soon  at  home.  "  Indeed,"  he  writes,  "  it  is  a 
most  blessed  thing  this  companionship  here.  You  love 
everybody,  and  feel  at  home  wherever  you  are."  Here 
they  were  to  spend  the  remainder  of  the  year ;  and 
accordingly,  as  soon  as  arrangements  could  be  made, 
they  took  possession  of  a  portion  of  one  of  the  mission 
houses,  and  settled  down  at  housekeeping.  It  seemed* 
somewhat  like  a  new  beginning  of  missionary  life ;  how 
he  looked  forward  to  that  life  is  seen  in  the  following 
extract  from  a  letter  written  during  the  journey  to 
Madura.] 

[to  rev.  s.  c.  dean.] 

DiNDIGAL,  Aug.  7,  1861. 

In  India  at  last !  .  .  .  .  The  prayers  and  hopes  of 
nine  years  are  fulfilled  :  is  there  anything  to  bring  a 
shadow  over  my  face  ?  India  I  tread  upon  ;  I  see 
these  false  gods  ;  I  see  men  bowing  to  them.  I  have 
the  whole,  pure  word  of  God  in  my  hand,  and  the 
capacity  of  speech  in  my  head.  My  work  is  plain  and 
full  in  sight.  Onward  !  ....  I  went  upon  a  tour 
last  Sunday  with  Mr.  White  and  Mr.  Webb,  and  so 
had  a  look  into  a  new  phase  of  mission  life  and  work. 
I  enjoyed  it,  and  it  profited  me,  I  hope,  for  I  was 


222  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

brought  to  look  so  closely  upon  this  massive  wall  that 
Hinduism  fronts  us  with,  that  I  felt  as  never  before 
how  utterly  a  necessity  in  our  work,  to  any  successful 
issue,  is  the  Holy  Spirit.  But  do  you  never  leap  at  the 
sight  of  towering  obstacles,  when  you  see  in  their  pres- 
ence a  new  and  glorious  opportunity  for  the  arm  of  the 
Lord  to  be  raised  up  ?  I  have  felt  it  somewhat ;  now 
I  want  it  part  of  my  ordinary  current  of  thought  and 
feeling,  never  to  forget  it,  and  ever  thus  to  pray. 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  223 


CHAPTER  XII. 

RESIDENCE  IN  MADURA. 

[August,  1861-February,  1862.] 

[The  seven  months  spent  in  Madura  were  occupied 
with  immediate  preparation  for  the  care  of  a  separate 
station.  The  best  portion  of  the  day  was  devoted  to 
study,  and  almost  eveiy  side  of  a  missionary's  life  was 
learned  through  practical  effort,  alone  or  with  the  older 
members  of  the  mission.  The  time  passed  quickly  and 
most  pleasantly.  Madura  is  the  centre  of  missionary 
operations  in  that  district,  and  beside  the  acquaintance 
which  the  new  missionaries  formed  with  other  workers, 
the  regular  meetings  of  the  mission  gave  an  opportu- 
nity to  acquire  a  knowledge  of  missionary  organiza- 
tion. Their  life  in  the  city  is  so  variously  described 
in  the  following  letters,  that  scarcely  any  explanation 
is  needed,  and  if  the  reader  misses  some  details  of  Ori- 
ental life,  it  is  because  the  final  establishment  at  Peria- 
kulam  seemed  the  best  occasion  for  introducing  them.] 

[journal  letter.] 

Sept.  16. 

Since  last  Tuesday,  one  week,  the  mission  meeting 
has  been  held  here.  It  is  held  once  a  year,  to  bring 
together  all  the  missionary  helpers,  hear  reports  of 
stations  and  recitation  of  lessons  learned  during  the 
year.  It  is  an  important  and  interesting  meeting,  for 
the  natives   more  than  for  the  missionaries.     All  the 


224  LIFE  AND  LETTERS   OF 

exercises  have  been  interesting,  but  one  above  all,  and 
of  this  I  must  write.  By  the  last  mail  I  received  a 
letter  from  Labaree,  giving  an  account  of  the  remark- 
able outburst  of  a  benevolent  spirit  in  the  Nestorian 
community.  I  read  the  letter  at  the  monthly  concert. 
By  the  same  mail  came  a  printed  letter  from  Deacon 
Moses,  Nestorian,  which,  I  suppose,  you  have  seen. 
This  letter  was  read  at  a  religious  service,  early  in  the 
course  of  the  meeting,  and  evidently  produced  a  great 
impression  upon  the  natives.  Its  results  were  soon 
felt.  Day  before  yesterday,  Saturday,  the  meeting  was 
at  Pasumalie,  three  miles  from  here.  I  rode  out  as 
early  as  possible,  but  was  late  at  the  introductory 
prayer-meeting.  When  I  entered  I  found  that  some- 
thing peculiar  was  passing,  and  it  was  not  long  before 
I  found  out  what  it  was.  One  of  the  first  things  I  saw 
on  entering  was  a  man  stooping  down  and  having  his 
ear-rings  pulled  out  by  another  ;  he  then  brought  them 
and  said  he  would  give  them  to  the  American  Board. 
In  fact  the  scene  at  Oroomiah  was  enacting  here  in 
Madura.  One  man  after  another  rose  in  rapid  succes- 
sion, spoke  a  few  earnest  words,  and  laid  down  his 
offering.  One  catechist  took  off  a  silver  chain  and 
gave  it.  Thereupon  one  of  the  missionaries  took  off 
his  chain  and  gave  that.  The  people  are  poor,  and 
have  little  to  live  on,  but  they  gave  nobly.  One  with 
a  monthly  salary  of  two  dollars  gave  four  dollars.  One 
man  rose,  said  he  had  pots  and  vessels  and  cloths  to 
buy,  and  had  only  been  a  month  in  employ,  he  would 
give  twenty-five  cents ;  one  just  married  gave  his  wed- 
ding-ring. The  people,  you  must  know,  carry  a  good 
deal  of  their  property  on  their  persons,  and  wear  orna- 
ments profusely.     One  man  said  he  would  sell  his  hen 


DAVID  COIT   SCUDDER.  225 

and  give  the  price,  which  he  stated  to  the  meeting,  but 
afterwards  got  up  and  said  he  had  valued  it  a  cent  and 
a  half  too  low,  and  must  add  the  difference  now.  An- 
other gave  some  chickens,  another  a  handkerchief;  an- 
other gave  for  his  congregation  a  dollar,  but  said  that 
was  only  a  nest-egg,  and  he  hoped  that  it  would  bring 
one  hundred  dollars  before  long  with  it.  One  man, 
who  had  been  up  four  times  before,  giving  money  and 
jewels,  got  up  again,  and  taking  his  cloth  off,  said,  "  It 
has  only  been  to  the  washerman's  twice  ;  I  '11  give  that." 
Another  gave  a  lamp,  another  a  leathern  pillow  which 
he  had  been  making  as  a  specimen  of  his  handiwork. 

These  are  but  a  few  instances  of  those  who  gave. 
Over  a  hundred  catechists  and  teachers  were  present, 
and  hardly  one  failed  to  add  something.  Above  the 
interest  from  giving  was  that  from  the  feeling  mani- 
fested. The  giving  was  interrupted  by  constant  and 
hearty  prayers.  This  was  but  a  half-hour  prayer- 
meeting,  and  an  examination  was  to  follow  ;  but  they 
all  said,  "  We  would  rather  pray  than  recite, — this  is 
not  a  common  day.  Let  us  defer  the  lessons."  How 
could  the  missionaries  refuse?  This  was  clearly  the 
presence  of  the  Spirit ;  leave  was  granted,  and  a  young 
man  arose,  the  same  who  had  given  his  wedding-ring, 
and  said  :  "  God,  by  Joel,  promised  to  pour  out  his 
Spirit  in  the  latter  days  ;  these  are  the  latter  days. 
Has  not  the  Spirit  come  ?  "  Many  were  weeping  over 
the  house,  and  missionaries  themselves  were  overcome. 
The  chairman  called  for  a  prayer ;  two  broke  out  to- 
gether, and  we  did  not  rise  before  five  had  poured  out 
their  thanksgiving  and  supplication  most  fervently. 
Such  emotion  and  such  earnestness  in  prayer  are  not 
oflen  noticeable  here.     There  was  no  undue  excite- 

15 


226  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

ment ;  all  was  orderly  and  quiet.  One  man  said, 
"  Money  is  no  great  thing  to  give,  we  must  offer  our 
health  and  strength  and  praise."  Another  rose  and 
with  tears  began  to  confess  a  wrong  of  which  he  had 
been  guilty  to  his  brother.  Prayers  and  offerings  were 
following  each  other  fast ;  we  had  been  nearly  four 
hours  together,  and  dinner-time  had  come.  So  we 
must  stop.  We  came  from  the  church  feeling  that 
this  was  a  remarkable  day  indeed,  such  as  has  rarely 
been  known  here.  Of  course  the  missionaries  have  to 
follow  the  good  example  given  them,  and  I  know,  for  the 
first  time,  what  it  costs  a  poor  minister  to  give.  One 
man  gave  a  cow  and  a  calf,  though  the  calf  was  not 
yet  actually  existing.  One  said,  "  We  must  not  despise 
those  who  give  much,  for  the  Lord  Jesus  has  done  this." 
The  meeting  brought  about  three  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars,  but  this  has  since  been  raised  to  about  five 
hundred,  for  the  people  all  wanted  another  meeting 
when  the  women  could  come.  Saturday  we  had  it : 
all  the  school-girls  came  in,  and  young  and  old  women 
and  babies.  The  meeting  began  by  a  nice-looking 
woman  stepping  up  and  laying  down  twenty-five  dol- 
lars for  her  husband.  This  is  the  largest  sum  given  by 
any  of  the  natives,  and  exceeded  only  by  what  some  of 
the  missionaries  gave.  A  man  got  up  and  began  to 
read  selections  from  the  Bible ;  they  doubtless  were 
good,  but  I  fear  were  unheard,  for  men,  women,  and 
children  were  pressing  up  to  the  table,  and  laying 
down  their  offerings.  Little  tots,  that  could  hardly 
walk,  came  up,  and  old  women,  who  seldom  had  a  cent 
in  their  pockets,  came,  and  gave  something  so  small 
that  your  currency  does  not  recognize  it,  but  which  I 
doubt  not  has  a  value  in  the  kincrdom  of  lieaven. 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  227 

I  fear  I  have  made  poor  work  of  this  most  exciting 
event,  m  my  narrative  of  it;  let  me   give  you  some 
idea  of  this  meeting  as  a  whole.    I  told  you  the  general 
object.     It   is  the  most   stirring   scene  :   one  hundred 
and  fifty  catechists,  teachers,  and  pastors  come  together 
to  meet  the  missionaries  for  mutual  help  and  instruc- 
tion,—a  visible  fruit  of  thirty  years'  labor.     Some  of 
these  men  would  appear  well  anywhere,  strong  charac- 
ters, zealous   Christians,  intelligent,  quick,  well-pleas- 
mg.     Dressed  in  their  clean  white  clothes,  with  their 
bright  faces  and  winning  ways,  you  can't  help  loving 
them;  set  them  to  singing  one  of  the  Tamil  Ivrics,  and 
see  if  you  don't  feel  that  their  souls  are  truly  quick 
with  a  new  life.     All  the  catechists  have  a  course  of 
study  laid  out  for  them  for  each  year,  in  Church  His- 
tory, Bible   Exegesis,   Theology,   and  Mental  Philos- 
ophy ;    the   teachers  have    simpler  studies.      At   this 
meeting  they  are  examined  as  to  their  proficiency  in 
the   several   branches.     Each  station,  too,  is  reported 
through  the  catechist.     They  have  also  a  Native  Evan- 
gelical Society,  whose  object  is  the  support  of  the  pas- 
tors in  the  mission,  audits  establishment  and  successful 
progress  are  an  indication  that  the  piety  of  the  native 
^  church  is  advancing. 

The  missionaries  have  also  their  meetings  for  busi- 
ness. To-day  it  was  voted  that  no  missionary  be  sent 
to  a  station  before  he  pass  a  certain  examination.  He 
cannot,  I  mean,  have  charge  of  any  station  as  his  own 
till  then.  Accordingly  I  cannot  have  a  station  assign- 
ed me  yet.  The  examination  is  to  be  held  by  the  close 
of  the  first  year,  but  as  much  sooner  as  the  individual 
chooses.  Mr.  Noyes  is  anxious  to  have  me  share  his 
field  by  January  next;    so  I  shall  try  to  be  ready  in 


228  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

three  months.  The  course  is  as  follows :  written  ex- 
amination and  oral ;  Tamil  letter,  sermon,  and  prayer ; 
translation  of  a  chapter  in  a  Tamil  story-book  ;  trans- 
lation from  the  Tamil  gospels ;  translation  from  Todd's 
"  Lectures  to  Children  "  into  Tamil ;  conversation  with 
a  native  ;  exposition  of  some  passage,  oral.  The  sermon 
will  be  the  hardest,  and  I  shall  have  to  study  hard  to 
get  through.  There  is  little  doubt  that  I  shall  be  sta- 
tioned at  Periakulam,  and,  indeed,  the  station  was  di- 
vided to-day. 

[to  HORACE  E.  SCUDDER.] 

Madura,  Sept.  19,  1861. 
....  Mission  meeting  is  just  over.  You  would 
have  been  interested  in  the  business  meetinors.  I  can 
see  how  residence  in  a  mission  may  tend  to  educate  one 
into  a  man.  You  are  among  equals,  and  must  at  once 
be  independent  and  yielding.  Important  questions 
constantly  arise,  affecting  radically  the  future  of  the 
church  in  India.  Moreover,  you  are  placed  in  quite 
absolute  control  of  a  dozen  or  twenty  men  and  their 
congregations,  whom  you  are  to  oversee,  care  for,  and 
train.  No  slight  matter  this,  and  a  new-comer  would, 
I  think,  be  impressed  with  the  soberness  which  seems  to 
be  the  natural  atmosphere  of  a  mission  meeting.  Grave 
questions  come  up,  and  you  cannot  possibly  shirk  them. 
I  shrink  from  assuming  these  responsibilities,  and  the 
mission  has  put  off  the  day  for  three  months  by  the 
new  resolve  that  no  new  missionary  shall  have  a  sta- 
tion assigned  him  until  he  has  passed  a  certain  ex- 
amination, satisfactorily  to  two  examiners.  He  is  al- 
lowed a  year  to  study  up.  The  examination  is  difficult, 
but  I  am  preparing  for  a  trial  in  December  next.     I 


*  DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  229 

like  the  plan,  it  will  raise  the  grade  of  qualification. 
For  one  thing  I  am  to  be  able  to  translate  any  of 
Todd's  stories.  I  like  this  part;  indeed,  it  was  en- 
tered at  my  suggestion.  I  begin  to  look  forward  to 
the  preparation  of  some  simple  Biblical  work  for  chil- 
dren. My  history  of  Madura  Mission  too  is  on  my  mind. 
.  .  .^  Oh,  H. !  do  step  in  and  chat,  won't  you  ?  You  hear 
nothing  but  confused  native  songs,  and  better,  chirps 
of  crickets.  My  fluid  lamp  burns  brightly  ;  it  is  n't  so 
very  different  from  home,  save  the  wild  song  of  natives 
passing  by.  I  never  knew  such  singers  :  they  sing  per- 
petually. Tell  me  all  criticisms  of  *'  Bib.  Sacra  "  articles. 
Few  enough  they  will  be,  and  I  presume  I  should  be 
better  critic  myself  than  any  of  them.  But  do  come 
m.  How  I  wish  you  would.  Come,  and  I  '11  show  you 
heaps  of  "Types."    Do  come.    Oh  that  I  could  s^e  you  ! 

[journal  letter.] 

Sept.  20. 
I  have  been  to  see  a  temple  of  Pilliyar  at  the  foot  of 
Secanda-malie  (Iskander  —  Alexander,  or  else  Scanda, 
a  Hindu  deity  —  mountain).  It  lies  at  the  foot  of  this 
enormous  rock,  well  called  a  mountain.  Rising  sheer 
out  of  a  wide  plain,  it  is  a  striking  feature  in  the  sce- 
nery here.  It  was  dark  when  we  went  there,  and  I 
have  not  time  to  describe  what  we  did  see,  but  it 
seemed  wild  to  be  groping  our  way  about  in  this  old 
building,  which  the  priests  were  lighting  with  dim 
lamps.  The  tall  pillars,  lofty  roof,  uncouth  and  fantastic 
sculpture,  and  an  elephant  or  two  close  by  your  side, 
all  impress  one  most  peculiarly.  But  my  first  feelings 
of  curiosity,  at  the  sight  of  temples  and  worship  of  idols, 
are  fast  giving  place  to  a  sentiment  of  disgust  and 


230  LIFE  AND  LETTERS   OF  ^ 

aversion.  You  cannot  ride  a  quarter  of  a  mile  in  any 
direction  without  coming  upon  some  unsightly,  dirty, 
filthy  image,  and  to  associate  that  with  any  sort  of 
religious  worship  of  human  beings  is  to  the  last  de- 
gree offensive  to  one's  feelings.  But  I  am  impressed 
more  with  the  deep,  unfathomably  deep  degradation  of 
the  people  than  with  their  criminality.  Criminal  they 
undoubtedly  are  ;  but  if  we  compare  them  with  the 
masses  at  home,  we  cannot,  I  think,  deny  that  the 
great  condemnation  rests  upon  the  latter.  According 
to  Christ,  the  great  fault  of  men,  that  of  which  they 
are  to  be  convinced  by  the  Holy  Spirit,  is  unbelief  in 
Him.  Certainly  then  the  strength  of  unbelief  is  to 
be  measured  by  the  weight  of  opposing  evidence,  in 
spite  of  which  the  unbelief  is  persisted  in.  Weighed 
by  this  test,  the  Hindus  are  not  as  culpable  as  merely 
nominal  Christians  at  home.  They  will  be  condemned, 
if  condemned  at  all,  on  account  of  unbelief  in  a  God 
who  is  to  the  great  body  but  dimly  revealed.  People 
of  Christian  lands,  if  condemned,  will  be  so  on  the 
ground  that  they  believe  neither  the  Father  nor  the 
Son,  though  all  evidence  possible,  consistent  with  moral 
discipline,  has  been  granted. 

Sept.  24. 

I  have  been  more  than  usually  saddened  to-day  by 
what  I  have  seen  of  heathenism.  I  sauntered  out  for  a 
w^alk  about  the  great  temple.  I  cannot  tell  you  how  I 
went,  or  take  you  with  me,  without  being  too  minute 
now.  But  entering  through  the  great  portico,  under  a 
pagoda  which  towers  up  more  than  a  hundred  feet, 
passing  through  rows  of  the  goddesses  of  plenty,  before 
whom  were  bazaar-men  selling  their  commodities,  I 
stopped   to   look   awhile   at  the  huge  holy  elephants 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  231 

which  were  fanning  themselves  with  banian-branches- 
They  trumpeted  for  me,  and  I  left,  stepping  by  a  poor 
woman  who  was  bowing  her  head  to  the  stone  floor, 
and  teaching  her  little  child  to  do  likewise  ;  walked  by 
one  side  of  a  famous  tank  in  which  men  were  washing 
their  clothes,  looked  at  the  absurd  paintings  on  the 
walls  of  the  covered  way,  illustrations  of  local  history, 
magnified  by  myth,  until  I  had  gone  as  far  within  the 
temple  as  unbelievers  are  permitted  to  go.  When  I 
reached  the  spot  there  was  a  fearful  din  of  drums  and 
shrill  fifes  and  noisy  conch-shells.  In  this  part  of  the 
temple  sunshine  never  falls,  and  as  it  was  now  dusk, 
all  that  could  be  seen  was  by  the  aid  of  dim  lights.  I 
had  entered  by  a  narrow  passage  to  a  broader  one  lead- 
ing in  the  opposite  direction,  while  directly  in  front 
was  the  passage  to  the  most  sacred  place,  which  profane 
feet  must  not  pollute.  As  I  turned  the  corner  my  eye 
fell  on  a  double  line  of  people,  thirty  in  number,  stand- 
ing by  twos  quite  across  the  passage,  with  hands 
stretched  over  their  hearts,  worshipping.  Slipping 
into  the  shadow  of  a  huge  pillar  I  watched  them. 
They  were  in  front  of  a  little  closet-like  place  in  the 
opposite  wall,  —  a  shrine,  large  enough  to  hold  three  or 
four  persons  ;  in  a  sort  of  sanctum  sanctorum  was  the 
image,  a  rude  figure,  dressed  in  flowers.  Before  it 
were  two  or  three  persons  who  were  passing  and  re- 
passing lamps,  doing  what  I  could  not  see.  As  they 
moved  the  lamps,  the  people  bowed  their  heads,  and 
at  last,  after  a  grand  flourish  of  hghts,  the  din  and 
clangor,  which  were  perfectly  deafening,  ceased,  and 
the  line  of  people  facing  about  fell  flat  on  their  faces 
upon  the  pavements  and  then  dispersed.  A  hke 
transaction  soon  after  took   place  in  front  of  the  en- 


232  LIFE  AND  LETTERS    OF 

trance  to  the  grand  shrine  of  the  goddess  of  the  temple 
hard  by. 

As  I  stood  thus  gazing,  close  by  the  worshippers, 
yet  apart  from  them,  I  seemed  to  have  been  carried 
into  the  very  heart  of  heathenism.  By  my  side  was  a 
stone  bull  sacred  to  Siva,  back  of  me  and  opposite, 
two  gigantic  statues  of  deities,  smeared  with  incense 
offered,  while  along  the  gloomy  corridor  were  figures 
carved  out  of  the  stone  pillars,  casting  their  unsightly 
shadows  around.  I  turned  and  walked  along  a  dingy 
pathway,  where  no  sunlight  ever  comes  except  in  feeble 
glimmerings,  and  which  was  hardly  passable,  lighted 
by  a  few  dim  oil  lamps,  groping  my  way  before  me. 
A  man  dogged  my  footsteps.  I  was  safe  enough  ;  yet 
the  whole  impression  of  the  place,  and  the  knowledge 
that  many  a  deed  of  darkness  had  doubtless  been  perpe- 
trated here  before  now,  made  me  breathe  more  freely 
when  I  gained  the  open  air,  and  after  a  few  minutes' 
walk  caught  sight  of  our  Christian  church,  embosomed 
in  trees,  a  silent  witness  to  the  truth  that  there  is  but 
one  living  and  true  God. 

[A  few  weeks  later,  the  following  incident  occurred.] 
I  took  a  stroll  this  afternoon,  and  walked  into  the 
temple.  A  crowd  followed  me  as  usual,  but  I  did  n't 
mind  it,  only  not  feeling  very  talkative  I  kept  mum. 
Coming  to  a  high  place,  and  standing  awhile,  I  jumped 
off,  —  about  six  feet,  —  and  left  the  crowd  behind, 
much  to  my  relief  I  had  gone  but  a  rod  or  two, 
however,  before  I  was  brought  face  about  by  a  brick- 
bat breaking  on  my  back.  I  caught  up  the  pieces, 
and  my  first  impulse  was  to  let  drive  right  at  the 
crowd ;  but  I  checked  myself,  pocketed  the  insult  and 
the  pieces,  and  walked  back  to  the  crowd,  which  scat- 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  233 

tered  fast.  I  said  nothing,  but  contented  myself  with 
taking  a  cool  survey  of  all  the  faces.  They  slunk 
away,  and  I  walked  back  again  home.  I  did  not  even 
offer  them  a  piece  of  advice,  but  let  the  whole  thing 
pass,  not  caring  overmuch,  except  that  I  did  feel  hke 
flooring  the  whole  cowardly  set,  as  I  might  easily  have 
done.  I  don't  know  but  I  was  even  too  pacific.  I  had 
said  not  a  word,  —  indeed  this  was  my  fault,  for  words 
always  put  these  people  in  good  humor.  And  I  take 
this  as  a  lesson,  for  I  might  have  preached  a  little  to 
them  had  I  chosen.  But  the  fellow  who  flung  the 
brick  must  have  done  it  with  a  will,  judging  from  the 
effects,  for  I  am  quite  sore,  and  only  grateful  that  my 
head  was  not  struck,  which  I  doubt  not  is  contrary  to 
the  wish  of  the  one  who  threw.  Well,  I  suppose  that 
the  people  as  a  whole  would  be  glad  to  see  us  all  stoned 
dead. 

[to  his  niece,  a  child.] 

Oct.  1. 
Dear  Bessie,  —  What  makes  me  think  of  you  on 
your  birthday,  away  here  on  the  other  side  of  this 
round  world  ?  When  I  left  home,  your  mamma  gave 
me  a  little  book  to  read  every  day.  There  is  one  page 
for  each  day  in  the  year.  When  I  opened  it,  I  found 
written  on  the  border  of  many  pages  the  names  of  dif- 
ferent people.  What  were  they  ?  they  were  the  birth- 
days of  all  our  family.  So  to-day,  when  I  open  this 
little  book,  on  the  side  of  the  page  I  read,  "  Little 
Bessie,  1853."  That  tells  a  simple  story,  and  says  to 
me,  To-day  Bessie  is  eight  years  old.  Now,  why 
must  n't  I  write  her  a  birthday  letter,  as  w^ell  as  to  my 
brothers  and  sisters  and  nephews  who  have  n't  any 
"  little  "  before  their  name  ?     Do  you  see  ?     I  don't. 


234  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

Another  thing  makes  me  think  of  you  very  often 
indeed,  almost  as  often  as  I  use  my  pen  ;  for  what  is  a 
pen  good  for  without  a  pen-wiper,  and  how  sliould  I 
have  had  a  pen-wiper  if  you  had  n't  made  me  one  ? 
Here  it  always  lies,  right  before  my  eyes,  the  stars  and 
stripes,  with  a  Faber's  pencil  holding  them  up.  I 
never  thought  before  why  you  put  a  lead-pencil  for  the 
flag-staff,  but  now  I  guess.  Was  it  not  so  that  when  I 
should  lose  all  my  pens  and  have  no  need  of  a  pen- 
wiper, I  might  have  a  lead-pencil  all  ready  ? 

Bessie,  do  you  remember  the  morning  we  sailed 
from  Charlestown,  how  you  bade  me  good-bye,  as  if 
you  were  sorry  to  see  me  go  ?  I  do,  and  I  like  to  think 
of  it,  for  it  makes  me  feel  you  love  me  and  will  not 
willingly  forget  me.  You  can  still  be  my  little  Bessie 
if  you  are  so  far  away,  and  you  can  still  do  me  good. 
You  know  that  when  men  go  deep  down  into  the 
earth,  in  a  coal  or  iron  mine,  they  have  to  be  let  down 
by  other  men,  who  hold  a  rope  that  passes  over  a 
windlass,  and  then  goes  straight  down  to  the  bottom 
of  the  mine.  We  have  come  down  into  this  dark 
mine  to  dig  out  gold  and  silver  and  precious  stones 
for  Christ.  We  have  been  let  down  here  by  Chris- 
tians at  home.  They  hold  a  chain  which  passes  up  to 
God's  throne,  and  then  comes  straight  here.  Each  link 
in  this  chain  is  made  up  of  the  prayers  which  one 
Christian  prays.  Now,  Bessie,  if  you  pray,  you  will 
add  one  more  link,  and  that  will  make  the  chain 
longer,  so  that  we  can  go  farther  in,  and  perhaps  find 
some  very  precious  jewels  for  the  Saviour.  Y^ou  won't 
forget  that  you  have  a  link  to  make,  will  you  ?  and 
don't  ever  let  it  get  broken. 

How  I  wish  that  you  could  drop  down  upon  us  from 


DAVID   COIT  SCUDDER.  235 

the  skies,  or  just  stop  a  moment  and  let  the  earth 
whiz  under  you  till  we  came  to  where  you  were,  and 
then  hop  on.  I  would  take  you  to  one  famous  place 
here  :  it  is  a  temple,  and  a  very  large  one,  larger  than 
any  building  you  ever  saw.  I  would  take  you  in  the 
evening,  when  the  priests  were  lighting  the  lamps 
before  the  idols.  We  pass  in  through  the  great  gates, 
and  on  each  side  can  just  see  in  the  dim  light  the  huge 
forms  of  enormous  elephants.  These  are  sacred  ele- 
phants; and  if  it  were  daylight,  you  could  see  their 
big  foreheads  all  marked  with  ashes,  which  the  men 
put  on  their  own  heads  as  a  mark  of  religion.  Step  on 
a  little  way,  and  all  at  once  you  come  near  stumbling 
over  something  on  the  ground.  What  is  it  ?  it  is  a 
mother  and  little  girl.  The  mother  is  flat  on  her  face, 
with  her  hands  joined,  palms  flat  against  each  other, 
and  she  is  worshipping  a  dirty  idol  in  front  of  her. 
Every  once  in  a  while  she  stops  and  makes  the  little 
girl  do  just  as  she  does.  That  little  girl,  Bessie,  is  not 
as  old  as  you,  and  yet  its  mother  is  teaching  it  to  bow 
its  little  head  to  an  idol.  One  night,  when  I  was 
walking  in  this  temple,  I  saw  quite  a  number  of  little 
children  doing  just  so,  their  mothers  teaching  them. 
And  so  we  might  walk  on  through  all  these  dark,  dis- 
mal rooms  and  halls,  where  dozens  of  idols  sit  with 
lamps  burning  before  them,  and  all  covered  with 
flowers  and  oil  offered  to  them.  But  it  is  a  fearful 
place,  and  we  are  glad  when  we  get  out  of  doors  once 
more. 

I  told  you  that  the  people  put  ashes  on  their  fore- 
heads. It  is  like  the  "  mark  of  the  beast  "  which  we 
read  of  in  Revelation,  for  it  is  the  sign  that  the  man 
who  wears  them  is  a  heathen  ;  and  so,  when  sometimes 


236  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

a  man  goes  back  from  attending  church,  instead  of  say- 
ing that  he  has  joined  the  heathen,  we  say,  "  He  has 
rubbed  ashes."  One  day  I  was  thirty  miles  away 
from  here  on  a  visit.  Some  women  were  at  work 
there,  pounding  mortar,  —  for  women  do  such  work  in 
India.  They  stood  in  a  ring  around  a  hole,  where 
the  mortar  was,  and  pounded  away  as  if  they  were 
playing,  singing  a  song  all  the  while.  Lots  of  boys  and 
girls,  some  not  older  than  you,  were  bringing  sand 
from  the  river,  half  a  mile  off,  in  baskets  on  the  top  of 
their  heads.  There  was  a  brick-kiln  close  by,  where 
brick  had  been  burnt,  and  which  was  tearing  down. 
A  little  girl  spied  some  ashes  in  the  pile ;  she  picked 
up  about  a  spoonful,  and  in  great  glee  ran  to  one  of  the 
women  with  it,  who  rubbed  it  over  the  little  girl's 
forehead,  so  that  it  was  all  white.  She  ran  and 
brought  some  more,  and  some  of  the  other  girls  and 
women  had  ashes  rubbed  on  in  the  same  way.  Poor 
girls  !  they  knew  no  better,  for  their  mothers  taught 
them  to  do  just  so.  I  think  you  would  feel  badly, 
could  you  see  the  little  boys  and  girls  here. 

I  wish  I  could  send  you  a  picture  of  my  horse- 
keeper's  little  daughter.  Her  name  is  Kali,  which  is 
the  name  of  a  very  cruel  goddess,  who  is  said  by  the 
people  to  eat  up  little  children.  But  she  is  a  nice, 
bright-eyed  thing.  She  is  just  about  as  old  as  you  are, 
but  I  fancy  can  do  some  things  that  you  cannot  do. 
She  has  been  living  here  all  alone  with  her  father,  and 
has  done  all  the  cooking  for  him !  How  you  would 
laugh  to  see  the  little  girls  here,  with  their  odd  dresses 
and  the  holes  cut  in  their  ears  for  rings  !  And  I  am 
sure  you  would  like  to  go  to  church,  and  see  the  rows 
of  school-girls,  with  Bibles  and  hymn-books  in  their 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  237 

laps,  looking  neat  and  happy,  showing  their  shiny- 
teeth,  that  look  so  brightly  from  their  black  faces. 
But  you  must  really  come,  if  you  want  to  see  all  the 
sights,  for  I  can't  begin  to  put  them  on  paper 

[journal  letter,] 

Oct.  5. 

....  This  afternoon  I  went  to  the  temple  where 
the  money-changers  and  bazaar-men  generally  resort, 
as  in  Solomon's  of  old.     I  was  desirous  of  looking  at 

certain  books  on  philosophy On  the  way  I  saw 

a  game  which  some  boys  were  playing,  which  really 
was  very  ingenious.  A  famous  festival  is  close  at 
hand,  and  these  were  training  for  that.  A  dozen  boys 
were  dancing  in  three  concentric  rings,  each  having 
two  sticks,  which  he  alternately  beat  together  and 
upon  the  stick  of  his  next  neighbor.  The  outward 
ring  danced  round  the  fastest,  so  that  a  boy  in  the 
middle  ring  had  three  boys  in  the  outer  one  to  play 
with.  They  took  three  or  four  steps,  and  then  back 
again.  This  is  quite  common  ;  but  they  played  another 
game  for  my  pleasure  :  it  was  in  two  parts,  a  war-dance 
and  a  hunt.  Each  boy  was  armed  with  a  sword  in  a 
sheath  and  a  shield.  They  danced  in  three  lines,  dancing 
two  and  then  back,  brandishing  their  swords,  beating 
them  now  on  their  own,  now  on  the  next  one's  shield, 
who  turned  round  to  receive  it,  backward  and  forward, 
spinning  on  their  heels,  bobbing  down  and  springing 
up  ;  then  drawing  their  swords  and  each  choosing  his 
opponent,  round  and  round  they  whirled,  singing  a 
song  and  keeping  music  all  the  while  to  bells  ringing. 
It  was  really  a  pretty  sight. 


238  LIFE  AND  LETTERS   OF 

[to    HORACE   E.    SCUDDER.] 

Madura,  Oct.  16,  1861. 
....  The  last  mall  fairly  stuck  out  with  good 
things  ;  but  what  gave  the  cream  to  the  letters  was  the 
appendices,  announcing  that  the  communication  be- 
tween America  —  no,  Home  and  India  w^as  perfect. 
[The  letters  were  wTitten  upon  receipt  of  the  first  letters 
from  India.]  I  can't  put  on  paper  the  quick  feelings 
of  that  hour  ;  it  was  almost  as  blessed  a  gift  to  us  as 
our  first  letters  must  have  been  to  you.  I  read  and 
re-read  mother's  and  S.'s  notes,  and  laughed  and  cried, 
paced  our  veranda,  feeling  that  I  was  indeed  in  India  : 
no  more  hopes  or  fears :  Ave  were  here,  everything 
about  me  spoke  of  it,  and  fixed  for  life.  Oh,  I  did 
long  for  one  look  in  upon  you  !  I  craved  fuller  descrip- 
tion of  the  scenes  when  the  letters  came. 

[to    SAMUEL   H.    SCUDDER.] 

Madura,  Oct.  19,  1861. 
....  You  must  let  me  know  what  special  books 
you  are  studying,  what  particular  insect  you  are  cock- 
ing your  microscopic  eye  at.  India  does  not  come  up 
to  my  idea  in  the  way  of  Nature.  There  are  very  few 
birds  within  the  limits  of  my  observation,  very  little 
beautiful  foliage  or  bloom,  very  few  insects.  I  cer- 
tainly have  been  struck  rather  by  the  absence  even 
of  the  latter  than  by  their  presence.  I  have  bottled 
and  canned  a  few  things.  To-day  I  put  in  a  tiny 
squirrel  to  rest  lovingly  upon  the  body  of  a  big  snake. 
A  pretty  mess  you  will  find.  But  if  you  wish,  I  can 
get  any  quantity  of  fish  from  the  rivers.  These  tanks 
are  marvellous.  In  the  hot  season  most  are  completely 
dry  ;  but  in  a  very  few  weeks  after  the  rain  falls,  you 


DAVID  COIT   SCUDDER.  239 

can  get  fish  for  the  table.  Go  out  any  morning,  and 
you  see  the  brooks  and  tanks  lined  and  covered  with 
fishermen  casting  their  queer  little  nets,  and  fumbling 
along  in  the  mud  with  their  hands  to  catch  the  diminu- 
tives. At  night  you  meet  the  same  coming  home, 
dressed  up  in  their  nets,  their  baskets  on  their  heads, 
and  their  nets  hanging  from  the  baskets,  making  a 
fringe  all  round  their  bodies,  —  a  droll  sight. 

[journal  letter.] 

Oct.  25. 
....  I  have  commenced  street-preaching.  Now 
this  sounds  important  and  looks  bold,  but  it  is  less  of 
both,  or  both  in  a  different  way  from  what  you  fancy. 
I  have  been  feeling  for  some  time  that  I  might  be  doing 
more  than  I  was  for  the  heathen.  I  knew  that  I  could 
not  do  much,  but  the  assurance  that  it  was  not  the 
multitude  of  words  or  fluency  of  utterance  that  achieved 
the  result  in  view  has  been  often  before  me,  and  I  de- 
termined to  break  the  ice  and  to  do  it  alone.  So  a  few 
mornings  since,  armed  with  a  pocket  full  of  tracts  and 
my  pocket  Tamil  Testament,  with  a  mark  at  the  story 
of  the  Prodigal  Son,  I  sallied  forth,  I  will  confess,  with 
some  uneasiness.  I  chose  a  little  village  that  I  had  no- 
ticed one  day  aside  from  the  main  road.  By  the  way, 
there  are  plenty  of  such  places  in  and  about  the  city ; 
if  you  step  just  outside  of  city  limits,  you  can  turn  into 
almost  any  footpath  which  will  bring  up  in  a  village. 
I  waded  over  a  brook  on  my  horse,  walked  into  a  vil- 
lage and  through  it,  adding  at  each  step  another  to  the 
train  of  followers.  At  the  other  end  was  a  little  open 
space  with  a  raised  platform.  I  halted  and  the  people 
stood  about,  lookino;  at  me  as  if  I  had  been  Cortez  and 


240  LIFE  AND  LETTERS   OF 

they  Indians  of  the  West.  I  began  by  asking  the  name 
of  the  village ;  receiving  a  satisfactory  reply,  I  asked 
them  if  they  would  like  to  hear  a  story.  You  see  I 
could  n't  enlarge  much  upon  any  topic,  and  my  transi- 
tion from  one  to  another  was  necessarily  abrupt.  How- 
ever they  assented,  and  I,  pulling  my  Testament  out, 
read  to  them  the  parable. 

This  I  could  do  tolerably  well,  and  they  all  listened 
quite  attentively.  After  that  was  over  I  told  them  that 
God  was  our  father  ;  that  we  had  all  sinned  against 
Him.  "We  are  all  sinners,"  said  I.  "Yes,"  said  a 
man,  "  you  are  a  sinner."  This  was  meant  for  a  sally 
of  wit  I  suppose,  but  I  of  course  said  a  hearty  Amen 
to  it.  Then  several  burst  in  with  —  "If  we  worship 
your  God,  will  he  give  us  clothes  and  corn  ?  "  to  which 
I  could  only  reply,  stammering,  that  the  right  heart 
was  better  than  food  or  clothing.  I  was  about  ex- 
hausted as  to  available  material  for  conversation,  so 
taking  out  my  tracts  I  distributed  to  those  who  could 
read,  and  turned  toward  home  with  a  light  heart,  not 
because  of  my  success  in  talking,  but  because  I  had 
tried  to  do  some  good ;  that  cheered  me. 

The  next  day  I  went  in  another  direction,  but  found 
no  villacre.  However,  as  I  was  examinino;  a  deserted 
temple,  some  men  came  near  and  I  asked  them  what 
idol  was  worshipped  there.  They  told  me  it  was  Pil- 
liyar ;  and  I  then  asked  why  they  prayed  to  such 
an  idol.  "  Oh,"  they  replied,  "  our  fathers  and  moth- 
ers did  and  so  must  we ;  it  is  custom."  I  replied 
that  if  their  parents  had  a  bad  custom  they  ought  not 
to  follow  it.  "  If  they  were  thieves  must  you  be  ?  " 
and  then  asked  them  why  they  prayed  to  a  god  which 
could   not   hear.      To   that   they   answered   nothing ; 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  241 

whether  the  question  struck  them  or  my  poor  Tamil 
posed  them  I  cannot  say,  but  I  fear  the  latter.  I  gave 
them  some  tracts  and  rode  home. 

Now  these  two  occurrences  are  not  specially  remark- 
able, but  they  are  interesting  to  me.  One  great  part 
of  my  work  ought  to  be  to  go  out  into  the  highways 
and  hedges  and  compel  these  people  to  come  in.  It  is 
not  in  itself  a  very  pleasant  thing,  yet  if  one  is  willing 
to  be  a  laughing-stock  for  his  awkward  speech  and  his 
unloved  doctrines,  it  is  not  difficult ;  and  when  we 
think  how  much  more  fitting  pity  is  than  anger,  it 
seems  an  eas}^  thing  thus  to  speak.  The  word  of  the 
Lord  is  to  be  preached  as  a  witness,  —  the  field  is  to  be 
sown,  dropping  one  seed  at  a  time,  —  if  my  ungram- 
matical  words  are  vain,  yet  I  can  read,  and  I  hope 
to  keep  the  practice  up.  Moreover  it  is  a  decided 
benefit  to  my  Tamil.  The  two  objections  which  I 
met  are  characteristic  ones,  ones  most  potent  with 
the  people :  Custom  rules  everything,  and  the  Belly 
is  the  God. 

[letter   to    SUNDAY-SCHOOLS.] 

Madura,  South  India,  Oct.  29,  1861. 
My  dear  young  Friends,  —  My  first  letter  to 
you  from  India  was  dated  "  Dindigal."  This  was  the 
first  missionary  station  which  we  reached  in  coming 
from  Madras.  This  second  letter  I  write  to  you  from 
Madura,  which  we  will  call  the  capital  of  our  mission- 
ary country.  Please  look  this  place  out  on  the  map, 
so  that  you  may  know  exactly  where  it  is.  It  is  quite 
a  large  city.  But  all  the  missionaries  do  not  live 
here,  any  more  than  all  the  ministers  of  Massachusetts 
live  in  Boston.     There  are  twelve  of  us,  but  only  on®- 

16 


242  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

lives  in  Madura.  The  others  are  in  towns  around 
this,  twelve  or  sixteen,  or  thirty  or  fifty  miles  away. 

If  we  would  preach  to  the  heathen,  we  must  go  to 
them,  for  they  will  not  come  to  us ;  and  as  some  of 
them  live  a  good  way  off,  we  go  in  carts,  or  on  horse- 
back, to  see  them.  Last  night  I  came  home  from  a  trip 
of  three  days,  which  I  took  with  an  older  missionary ; 
as  I  was  riding  back  on  my  little  pony  I  thought  I 
must  write  you  a  letter  about  some  of  the  strange 
things  which  I  had  seen ;  and  here  it  is. 

Bright  and  early  on  Saturday  morning  I  started  off 
on  my  pony,  and  after  losing  my  way  among  the 
rice-fields,  at  last  found  the  village  I  was  looking  for, 
about  eight  miles  from  Madura,  and  there  met  Mr.  Bur- 
nell,  who  had  come  from  his  home,  ten  miles  in  the  other 
direction,  to  preach  to  the  people  in  this  village.  We 
went  into  one  of  the  school-houses,  where  is  a  school 
for  boys  and  girls,  such  as  you  pay  for.  There  we  sat 
down  in  some  chairs  that  were  brought  to  us,  the  only 
chairs,  I  suppose,  in  the  village ;  for,  you  know,  all  the 
school-children  and  teachers  sit  right  down  in  the  sand 
which  is  the  floor.  The  school-house,  like  all  others, 
had  mud  walls  and  a  straw  roof.  We  heard  the  little 
boys  recite  their  lessons  in  geography,  Bible  questions, 
and  other  studies.  One  lesson  they  had  which  you  v^ill 
think  a  strange  one.  They  have  to  learn  the  diction- 
ary by  heart !  They  say  off  the  words  and  give  the 
meaning  to  them  just  as  fast  as  they  can  talk ;  they 
sing  them  off,  for  their  books  are  written  in  a  sort  of 
rhyme. 

After  we  had  heard  the  lessons,  we  had  a  meeting 
for  the  old  people  ;  for  this  mud  house  was  the  church, 
as  well  as  the  school-room.     As  the  people  were  com- 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  243 

ing  in,  I  saw  a  poor-looking  woman,  with  a  baby  in  her 
arms,  climbing  over  a  high  wall  and  taking  a  seat  out- 
side the  house  on  the  ground.  What  do  you  suppose 
she  was  climbing  over  the  wall  for,  when  there  was  a 
wide  door  and  plenty  of  room  inside  ?  It  so  happened 
that  there  were  three  or  four  men,  not  richer  perhaps, 
but  of  a  higher  "  caste  "  than  herself,  and  she  was  afraid 
that  if  she  passed  near  them  they  would  be  angry,  and 
scold  at  her,  or  beat  her.  In  this  heathen  land  all  men 
are  not  equal,  as  we  say  they  are  in  America  ;  but 
there  are  a  great  many  different  classes  or  castes.  It 
is  thought  a  sin  for  any  two  people  of  two  different 
castes  to  eat  together. 

After  preaching  in  this  place  we  went  to  visit  some 
of  the  people  in  their  houses.  While  we  were  in  one 
of  them,  we  heard  a  dull,  heavy,  drum-like  sound. 
"There,"  said  Mr.  Burnell,  "there  is  a  Kodanghi ; 
shall  we  go  and  see  him  ?  "  A  Kodangki ;  what  is  that  ? 
He  is  a  soothsayer,  or  magician,  or  prophet  who  tells 
fortunes  and  professes  to  tell  where  anything  is  which 
has  been  lost,  —  to  be  able  to  cure  sick  people,  —  to 
drive  the  devil  out  of  them,  —  to  make  it  rain,  and  to 
do  many  other  things  for  a  little  money.  The  poor 
heathen  believe  he  can  do  all  these  things,  and  many 
are  the  pennies  that  they  place  before  him.  As  I  had 
never  seen  one  I  was  glad  to  go.  We  found  the  wise 
man  sitting  by  the  door  of  a  devil-temple  next  to  his 
own  house.  He  was  a  young  man  and  fine  looking. 
He  had  white  ashes  rubbed  on  his  forehead.  In  his 
hand  was  a  drum,  shaped  like  an  hour-glass,  and  from 
this  little  drum  hung  a  belt,  and  on  this  belt  dangled 
lots  of  glass  beads  and  sweet-smelling  seeds  of  fruit. 
It  has  not  rained  here  enough  to  make  the  rice  grow, 


244  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

and  he  was  singing  to  the  god  to  bring  the  water.  He 
stopped  a  Httle  while  after  we  came  in ;  and  then  Mr. 
Burnell,  after  talking  to  him,  took  out  a  dollar  from 
his  pocket  and  said,  "  I  will  give  you  this  if  you  can 
tell  me  what  I  write  on  this  paper."  He  wrote  my 
name  in  Tamil  and  put  the  paper  away.  The  man 
looked  rather  ashamed,  but  began  to  call  on  his  gods. 
He  thumped  on  the  drum,  and  sucking  in  his  breath 
till  he  grew  red  in  the  face,  sang  in  a  loud  voice,  cry- 
ing out  to  the  gods  to  tell  him  the  secret.  After  puff- 
ing and  singing  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  he  gave 
the  answer:  "You  have  written,"  he  said,  "about  a 
man  that  people  in  America  are  disputing  about." 
When  he  found  how  wrong  he  was,  he  did  n't  seem  to 
care  much,,  for  he  knew  that  the  people,  who  were 
around  him,  would  believe  him,  even  if  he  did  guess 
wrong.  And  sure  enough,  we  had  only  just  left  the 
house  when  we  heard  him  thumping  his  drum  again,  as 
some  one  had  come  to  get  him  to  bring  the  rain  down. 
The  next  day  was  the  Sabbath,  and  it  was  my  first 
birthday  in  this  heathen  land.  In  the  cool  of  the 
morning  I  went  away  from  the  noise  of  the  village, 
and  lay  down  on  the  grass,  with  the  sky  above,  which 
looks  the  same  all  over  the  earth,  and  in  full  view  of 
the  mountains,  which  made  me  think  of  the  mountains 
I  knew  at  home.  Then  I  thought  of  my  far-off  friends, 
my  father  and  mother  and  brothers  and  sisters,  and  I 
knew  that  they  would  think  of  me  too  this  day.  I 
tried  to  pray  that  God  would  make  me  a  faithful  ser- 
vant of  His,  in  this  land  to  which  I  had  come  to  preach 
His  word.  Will  any  of  you  ever  spend  a  birthday  in 
a  heathen  land  ? 

That  day  we  preached  and  talked  to  the  people,  as 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  245 

all  missionaries  do  every  Sabbath-day.  I  must  not 
forget  to  tell  you  that  a  poor  woman,  who  bad  no 
money,  brought  in,  as  her  weekly  contribution,  a 
w^ooden  bowl  of  grain.  So  the  next  morning  we  had 
a  little  auction  and  sold  it.  It  brought  just  one  cent, 
a  small  sum,  but  large,  I  doubt  not,  in  the  eyes  of  the 
Saviour. 

Monday  morning  we  rose  before  daybreak,  so  as  to 
go  to  a  famous  temple.  After  riding  about  an  hour 
we  came  to  it.  We  were  not  sorry  to  see  that  many 
of  the  buildlnsis  around  it  were  tumblino;  down.  Do 
you  remember  hearing  how  the  little  banian-seed,  lodg- 
ing between  the  stones  of  a  temple,  takes  root  and 
grows,  till  it  splits  the  rocks  and  one  by  one  they  fall 
to  the  ground  ?  Just  so  it  was  here  ;  great  temples  had 
crumbled  into  ruins,  looking  far  more  pleasing  to  us 
than  when  they  were  all  whole  with  a  greasy  idol 
within.  But  there  was  one  temple  still  in  use,  and  it 
is  a  famous  one.  We  were  walking  in  to  see  what  was 
inside,  when  a  man,  and  then  three  or  four  others, 
rushed  to  us,  saying,  "  Go  back ;  go  back ;  you  can't 
come  here."  "  Why  not  ?  "  "  Oh,  this  is  a  holy  place !  " 
So  w^e  went  back.  We  then  went  into  another  place, 
swinging  open  two  enormous  doors,  over  thirty  feet 
high  and  a  foot  thick.  A  man  tried  to  keep  us  from 
going  in,  but  we  pushed  ahead.  What  do  you  suppose 
his  reason  w^as  ?  "  Why,"  said  he,  "  you  are  white 
people,  and  can  do  anything;  but  if  a  black  man 
should  go  in  there  without  leave,  he  would  never  come 
out  alive."  It  is  a  sacred  place.  There  the  people  go 
who  want  to  make  vows.  They  take  an  oath,  and 
throw  sandal-wood  up  against  the  doors,  and  then 
never  dare  to  tell  a  lie. 


246  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

We  went  up  into  a  high  tower  of  the  temple,  where 
we  could  see  a  long  way  off.  Mr.  Burnell  shouted  out 
to  the  people  below,  "  Christ's  kingdom  shall  come ; 
and  all  the  idols  he  shall  destroy."  So  it  shall  come, 
we  believe,  if  we  do  what  our  Saviour  commands  us 
to  do.  But  we  must  work  hard.  "  I  would  rather 
have  my  throat  cut  than  be  a  Christian,"  said  a  man  a 
few  days  ago. 

Pray  much,  children  of  the  Sabbath-school ;  and  if 
God  permit  you,  come  out  to  this  or  to  some  other 
heathen  land,  to  tell  the  people  yourself  of  Christ. 
Now  when  people  write  letters  they  expect  answers. 
Won't  you  answer  this  and  cheer  up  your  friend  ? 

David  C.  Scudder. 

[to    D.  T.  FISK,  D.  D.,  NEWBURYPORT,  MASS.] 

Madura,  Nov.  5,  1861. 
....  I  am  indeed  in  India,  and  somewhat  better 
acquainted  with  it  than  when  my  ship-letter  started  off 
in  search  of  you.  And  I  am  in  Madura,  the  metrop- 
olis of  this  missionary  kingdom.  It  is  already  a  home 
to  me.  I  thread  the  narrow  passages  of  this  Orien- 
tal city  with  as  much  famiharity  and  nearly  as  much 
indifference  as  you  would  Boston.  The  queer  capers 
of  naked  urchins  kicking  up  the  dust,  lines  of  men, 
women,  and  children,  all  bearing  the  mark  of  the  devil 
emblazoned  on  their  foreheads,  idols,  shops,  temples, 
have  all  lost  their  novelty,  while  if  you  could  be  set 
down  here  directly  from  Newburyport,  without  stirring  a 
step  you  would  find  food  enough  for  a  long  day's  wonder- 
ment. I  was  thinking  to-day  of  a  commonly  accepted 
idea  among  missionary  circles  at  home,  and  which  I 
once  often  broached,  viz :  that  it  was  well  that  new- 


DAVID  CO  IT  SCUDDER.  24T 

comers  could  not  open  their  mouths  for  a  while,  since 
thus  they  were  not  in  danger  of  hurting  people's  feel- 
ings unintentionally.  Now  this  may  be  true  of  other 
countries,  but  nobody  need  fear,  on  the  first  day  of  his 
arrival,  speaking  boldly  of  Christ  if  he  is  able  to. 
Common  sense  is  enough  ;  a  few  weeks'  stay  gives  one 
a  reasonable  acquaintance  with  native  character. 

There  are  some  phases  of  native  character  which  I 
think  one  does  not  anticipate.  Such,  for  instance,  is 
their  utter  deadness  of  spirit,  and  sensuousness.  Go 
out  and  meet  any  company  of  heathen,  urge  upon  them 
the  duty  of  worshipping  God.  "Who  has  seen  him? 
Will  he  fill  our  belly  ?  We  do  as  our  fathers  did,"  are 
the  three  stock  answers,  always  at  hand,  satisfactory  to 
them,  unblushingly  presented.  What  special  part  of 
our  theologic  training  has  fitted  us  to  meet  such  objec- 
tions ?  They  are  so  utterly  low  that  it  is.  hard  to  get 
down  low  enough  to  meet  them  on  their  own  ground. 
The  country  has  been  suffering  much  from  lack  of 
rain.  I  don't  know  how  many  times  I  have  been  met 
by  the  question,  —  "  Will  he  give  us  rain  ?  "  while 
the  processions  that  pass  our  door  with  sheaves  of  grain 
to  be  offered  to  the  river-goddess  show  where  the  heart 
of  this  people  is. 

I  wish  you  could  mount  your  pony  and  ride  out  with 
me  some  morning  about  sunrise,  to  see  whom  we  might 
meet,  drop  a  tract  and  attempt  a  little  advice.  It  is  a 
motley  group  that  gathers  around  you  when  you  stop, 
all  respectful,  but  none  sympathizing.  They  meet  your 
words  with  an  incredulous  smile  and  always  have  some 
reply  at  hand.  You  may  talk  on  and  they  will  listen ; 
they  hear  as  if  they  listened  to  a  story  or  talk  about 
crops ;  rarely  can  you  feel  that  one  is  moved  a  whit  by 


248  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

any  sayings  of  yours.  Such  is  the  work  that  lies  be- 
fore us :  to  proclaim  the  truth  whether  men  will  hear 
or  whether  they  will  forbear.  Discouraging  as  it  is, 
you  find  people  who  have  many  pleasing  traits  about 
them,  who  are  ready  to  assist  you  in  any  way,  always 
pleasant,  quiet  in  their  demeanor,  amiable,  lacking  only 
the  one  thing.  I  can't  help  loving  them.  The  chil- 
dren I  like,  particularly  the  boys.  Bright-eyed  little 
chaps,  they  are  as  fond  of  frolic  as  any  Christian  chil- 
dren, and  their  sports  always  please  me. 

A  thorough  missionary's  work  here  is,  indeed,  dlifer- 
ent  from  pastoral  labor  at  home.  He  has  a  church  to 
care  for,  but  his  time  is  occupied  with  petty  troubles. 
Four-fifths  of  his  time  often,  or  nearly  that,  he  is  away 
from  home,  living  in  mud  school-houses,  sleeping  in  his 
cart,  or  in  a  native  rest-house,  preaching  morning  and 
evening  in  the  wretched  villages,  and  having  the  day 
occupied  with  calls ;  no  retirement,  no  leisure.  A 
faithful  missionary  leads  a  roving  life.  It  is  self-deny- 
ing. One  of  our  most  zealous  tourists  has  travelled 
incessantly  in  his  field  for  four  years  past  with  scarcely 
appreciable  result ;  result,  I  mean,  in  conversions.  It 
surely  is  a  result  that  almost  all  the  villagers  in  his  dis- 
trict know  in  a  measure  the  leading  features  of  Chris- 
tianity.    The  sowing  of  the  seed  alone  is  our  duty. 

....  How  many  lines  of  study  I  should  delight  to 
pursue,  were  I  in  America.  Here  one  has  precious 
little  spare  time  for  reading,  and  it  is  next  to  impossible 
to  study  upon  sermons,  as  you  would  for  a  New  Eng- 
land audience,  when  you  have  to  preach  in  the  most 
simple  style  possible.  It  is  really  painful  to  visit  any 
of  the  villages  where  people  have  put  themselves  under 
instruction,  and  see  how  sadly  ignorant  they  are  of  even 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  249 

cardinal  points  of  the  faith.  Then  again  you  have 
occasion  to  rejoice  when  a  candidate  for  the  pastoral 
office  presents  himself,  as  one  did  at  the  last  general 
meeting,  who  has  come  directly  from  among  the 
heathen,  and  merely  by  his  private  study  of  the  Bible 
has  attained  views  of  the  truth  surprisingly  clear  and 
mature,  even  discriminating  between  faith  and  works 
as  neatly  as  a  practised  theologian.  Such  preachers 
we  want,  taught  of  God  as  they  clearly  are-. 

[to    rev.    CHARLES   R.    PALMER,    SALEM,   MASS.] 

Madura,  Nov.  13,  1861. 
....  Here  is  this  great,  heathenish  city,  where 
idolatry  and  every  crime  flaunt  you  in  the  face. 
When  will  it  be  overpowered  and  made  a  city  of  the 
Great  King  ?  The  question  forces  itself  repeatedly 
upon  you  as  you  listen  to  a  missionary  address  a  crowd 
in  the  streets,  and  see  the  unmoved  or  scornful  faces  of 
the  people  who  stop  to  hear  this  doctrine.  Slow  work, 
and  what  we  need  above  all  thino-s  is  more  faith  in  the 
might  of  God  that  is  to  conquer.  I  am  as  comfortable 
and  happy  as  if  I  were  at  home,  though  I  do  so  long  at 
times  to  have  a  p;ood  lono;  look  at  the  dear  faces  left 
behind.  I  am  surprised  at  the  climate  :  I  suffer  more 
from  chilliness  than  from  heat ;  at  the  water,  too  cool 
to  need  ice  ;  at  the  people,  amiable,  obliging,  interest- 
ing ;  at  all,  in  fact,  which  aff'ects  one's  happiness  here. 
One  can  enjoy  life  with  as  little  sacrifice  of  personal 
feeling,  if  he  choose,  as  at  home,  or  nearly  so.  Per- 
haps, however,  I  should  feel  less  contented  had  I  no 
object  beyond  living.  But  you  must  not  think  of  me  as 
a  martyr  at  all,  or  as  necessarily  very  good  for  staying 
here.     But  there  is  the  fact  of  the  terrible  degradation 


250  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

of  this  people  tliat  does  oppress  one,  —  such  hovels  as 
some  of  them  do  live  in,  and  so  far  removed  do  thev 
appear  from  the  possibility  of  renovation. 

[to    SAIV^EL    H.    SCUDDER.] 

Madura,  Nov.  15,  1861. 
....  What  a  dear  old  man  father  is  !  Somehow 
or  other  he  is  losing  his  paternity,  to  me  in  particular, 
in  my  thoughts ;  he  is  gradually  looming  up  as  the 
impersonation  of  the  true  Father,  always  venerable, 
yet  always  endowed  with  the  gift  of  youth,  benignant, 
and  constantly  wearing  a  face  full  of  sweet  content  and 
quiet  joy.  I  believe  I  am  sor^  of  deifj^ing  him.  Now, 
that 's  nonsense,  I  suppose,  but  the  more  I  think  of  it, 

the  more  I  wonder  at  father But,  dear  me ! 

I  must  stop  ;  I  can't  say  anything,  and  it  makes  me 
almost  cry  to  write  anything. 

[to  his  sister.] 

Madura,  Nov.  16,  1861. 
....  Though  I  am  in  India,  I  have  not  run  away 
from  all  my  troubles.  I  still  have  fits  of  blues  much  as 
of  old.  I  might  as  well  give  up  attempting  to  excuse 
myself,  and  say  that  I  am  both  a  sinner  and  a  fool.  I 
am  afraid  to  go  out  in  the  morning  and  talk,  though 
there  is  nothing  which  should  deter  a  really  zealous 
man.  I  find,  too,  that  I  am  not  so  quick  at  catching 
by  ear  as  I  hoped  I  might  be.  I  may  possibly  not 
judge  myself  fairly,  but  at  any  rate  I  feel  a  reluctance 
toward  engaging  in  conversation  with  any  one,  which 
acts  directly  as  a  hindrance  against  my  learning  to  talk. 
It  requires  a  strong  resolve  to  set  me  at  talking.  When 
once  in  my  own  station,  may  God  help  me  to  be  faith- 


DAVID  COIT   SCUDDER.  251 

ful  I  Grace  can  do  what  nothing  else  can,  and  I  feel 
deeply  that  I  need,  more  than  aught  else,  a  thorough 
hold  on  Christ,  and  the  possession  of  all  the  animating 
thoughts  connected  with  such  faith  as  shall  naturally 
quicken  me  in  work. 

[to  his  father.] 

Madura,  Nov.  28,  1861. 
Is  it  Thanksgiving-day  at  home  ?  It  is  here,  for  the 
mail  is  in,  and  your  letter  has  come.  Let  me  with  all 
my  heart  applaud  that  determination  of  which  this  let- 
ter from  you  is  the  earnest,  of  keeping  a  sort  of  journal 
for  us  to  read.  It  is  exactly  the  thing,  —  the  one  of  all 
others  that  we  need,  —  a  connected  account  of  affairs, 
into  which  all  other  private  special  notes,  however  long, 

shall   fall  and  find  their  place Dear  father,  it 

does  make  us  very  happy  to  think  of  you  as  happy  too. 
I  certainly  feel  it  matter  of  devout  thankfulness  that 
your  peace  of  mind  has  not  been  broken  by  losses. 
There  is  no  picture  in  the  whole  home  group  that  is  so 
bright  and  blessed  to  me  as  that  of  you,  and  mother 
with  you.  You  know  I  am  no  hand  to  put  down  or 
speak  out  all  I  feel,  but  your  mere  existence  is  a  joy  to 
me  that  I  can't  possibly  express.  There  seems  to  be 
absolutely  nothing  in  my  lot  to  detract  from  my  per- 
fect happiness I  don't  know  of  a  single  priva- 
tion that  we  suffer,  which  we  feel,  except  such  as  are 
incidental  to  being  away  from  home.  Our  circle  is 
a  very  pleasant  one,  and  we  are  becoming  more  and 
more  interested  in  it,  and  shall  soon  have  plenty  of 
work  to  do.  We  do  need  most  deeply  the  supplica- 
tions of  friends  in  our  behalf,  and  not  the  least  because 
we  have  even  here  so  many  earthly  props.     No  con- 


252  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

junction  of  circumstances,  I  find,  can  force  a  man  to 
become  a  saint. 


[journal  letter.] 

Nov.  20. 

The  most  noticeable  event  in  nature  lately  is  the 
"  comino-  down  "  of  the  river.  "  The  river  is  down  " 
is  the  common  plirase  here  to  denote,  not  that  it  is  low, 
but  high,  and  it  is  a  fit  word.  Day  before  yesterday, 
in  the  bed  of  this  river,  half  a  mile  wide,  was  only  a 
channel  of  water  a  rod  or  two  across  ;  now,  the  river  is 
full  from  bank  to  bank.  The  late  rain  (for  this  is  the 
rainy  season)  has  filled  the  river  in  a  day  and  night; 
not  so  much,  however,  the  rains  here  as  those  up  the 
stream.  This  is  the  crowning  blessing  of  the  rainy 
season.  All  the  main  tanks  are  fed  by  the  river,  and 
if  these  are  not  supplied,  there  is  no  water  for  the  rest 
of  the  year,  or  none  of  much  account.  You  may 
readily  conceive  of  what  inestimable  value  the  rains 
are  to  this  people,  and  it  is  no  wonder  that  in  their 
worship  they  make  so  much  of  prayer  for  rain.  The 
tanks  are  large  enclosures,  with  mud  embankments,  of 
various  shapes  and  sizes,  some  of  them  two  or  three 
miles  in  diameter.  These  are  supplied  by  the  annual 
rise  of  the  river,  and  the  water  is  kept  carefully 
guarded,  being  wholly  under  the  charge  of  the  several 
village  authorities,  who  apportion  so  much  time  for 
drawing  water  to  each  separate  field.  The  whole  sys- 
tem of  irrigation  is  very  strictly  arranged.  Just  now 
the  fields  of  rice  look  most  charmingly.  I  never  saw 
so  rich  a  green,  and  you  can  look  in  some  directions 
for  miles  with  scarce  a  break  in  the  soft  carpeting. 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  253 

[to    rev.    SIMEON    WOODIN,  FUH    CHAU,  CHINA.] 

Madura,  Nov.  27,  1861. 

....  Well,  how  do  the  mild-eyed,  pig-tailed 
Chinese  suit  your  notion  of  the  true,  beautiful,  and 
good  ?  Is  it  possible  to  penetrate  behind  the  skin,  and 
really  find  a  human  heart  ?  I  always  think  of  a  China- 
man as  enclosed  in  a  sort  of  porcelain  wrapper,  smooth 
enough,  but  forbidding  any  but  the  most  gentle  hand- 
ling. Is  there  anything  to  love  there  ?  or  do  you  have 
to  suppose  a  substratum  really  lovable,  but  impercep- 
tible to  mortal  ken  ?  The  Chinese  seem  a  class  thrust 
aside  from  other  mortals,  differing  in  toto  coelo  from 
all  others  of  the  human  race.  Such  an  uncouth  lan- 
guage, such  a  singular  polity,  such  an  unexampled  ^yot- 
pourri  of  religious  faiths,  where  one  may  take  his  pick 
or  swallow  the  whole.  They  certainly  are  an  interest- 
ing study.  By  the  way,  do  you  expect  to  save  your 
shreds  of  time  for  study  of  the  people  ?  Some  of  your 
celestial  missionaries  have  brought  the  world  under 
obligation  by  their  labors  ;  shall  you  join  their  circle  ? 
Which  rule  of  faith  appears  to  you  to  have  strongest 
hold  upon  the  people  ?  Do  Buddhists  look  toward 
India  with  anything  of  veneration  as  the  birthplace  of 
their  faith  ?  Do  they  hold  at  all,  nowadays,  to  their 
old  metaphysical  dogma  of  annihilation  as  the  blessed 
end  of  all  four  evils  ?  Nirvana  ?  I  have  looked  into 
Indian  Buddhism  a  little,  and  have  found  a  good  deal 
to  interest ;  certainly  its  system  of  ethics  is  far  beyond 
anything  that  Brahmanism  has  ever  been  able  to 
propound. 

What  a  beehive  must  be  constantly  buzzing  about 
your  ears  !  We  have  no  such  swarms  of  people  here, 
I  fancy,  as  you  describe.    Indeed,  the  country  does  not 


254  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

seem  to  be  over-populated,  though  hamlets  are  scattered 
thickly  here  and  there.  I  am  glad  you  take  so  kindly 
to  your  adopted  tongue.  Forgive  me  my  cruel  asper- 
sions upon  its  character.  I  can  hardly  believe  yet  that 
Hindu  children  can  whisper  and  laugh  and  chat  as 
readily  in  Tamil  as  I  can  in  English.  Are  there  any 
such  things  as  native  Christian  lyrics  among  you  ?  A 
great  step  for  Christianity  has  been  taken  here  by 
bringing  forward  native  Christian  poetry.  The  people 
sing  native  melodies  with  a  will,  but  foreign  importa- 
tions with  difficulty.  Do  any  of  your  missionaries 
speak  Chinese  as  fluently  as  they  do  English  ?  Such 
is  not  an  uncommon  thing  here.  I  find  my  previous 
study  of  Tamil  a  solid  help.  ...  A  spirit  of  benevo- 
lence has  come  upon  us,  new  here,  and  evidently  from 
above.  But  the  work  of  conversion  is  slov/  in  progress, 
and  the  people  are  deplorably  low  in  their  state.  It  is 
utterly  disheartening  to  labor  among  them,  if  one 
does  not  look  for  help  bej^ond  himself.  The  Chris tiani- 
zation  of  a  people  who  for  generations  upon  generations 
have  been  descending  in  the  stage  of  morality  and  relig- 
ion, must  itself  be  a  work  of  many  generations.  God 
moves  slowly,  but  time  is  nothing  to  Him.  We  can 
only  watch  and  adore. 

[to    rev.  CHARLES    NEWMAN.] 

Madura,  Nov.  27,  1861. 
....  Put  far  out  of  your  fancy  any  notion  of  trop- 
ical luxuriance  hereabout.  There  is  no  rankness  save 
that  of  countless  goats  and  sheep  too  scant  to  shear. 
Grass  grows  in  clumps.  Blossoms,  driven  from  the 
bosom  of  earth,  are  fain  content  to  show  themselves  on 
high  trees.     Not  a  bird  in  these  regions  is  there  that 


DAVID  COIT   SCUDDER.  255 

could  outshine  or  outsing  a  home  thrush  or  honest 
robin.  Animals  look  like  scarecrows.  Elephants 
lopped  off  behind,  camels  with  broken  backs,  hairless 
dogs,  buffaloes  that  seem  to  have  been  formed  from  sur- 
plus mud,  hump-backed  cows  and  oxen,  and  last  and 
least  poor  donkeys  that  hobble  about,  leading  a  wretched 
life  between  the  washer-men  w^ho  load  them  down  with 
bundles  that  turn  all  their  joints  out  and  me  who  im- 
pound them  for  trespassing  on  my  grass.  No,  if  you 
want  to  see  Nature  in  her  best  attire,  don't  come  out 
here,  at  least  not  if  you  are  to  be  a  dweller  on  the 
plains.  Give  me  sturdy  New  England.  An  hour's 
drive  in  any  part  will  show  yoa  more  beauty  than  I 
have  seen  thus  far  here.  "  Only  man  is  vile,"  is  a  vile 
slander  on  that  abused  individual.  Man  is  the  only 
redeeming  feature  in  the  scene,  and  because  he  can  be 
redeemed. 

Now  the  heathen  may  set  me  down  as  highly  mag- 
nanimous, for  only  yesterday,  while  walking  in  the 
temple,  one  of  them  took  the  occasion  to  break  a  brick- 
bat over  my  back,  succeeding  in  his  endeavor,  but  al- 
most breaking  me.  That  temple  is  a  fearful  place,  the 
gloomiest,  most  dread-inspiring  of  any  hole  I  was  ever 
in.  The  bats  have  occupied  it  before  their  time ;  and 
what  with  their  stench,  and  the  filthy  odor  from  offer- 
ings and  incense,  the  pitchy  darkness,  and  the  stealthy 
tread  of  worshippers  coming  and  going,  some  parts  of 
it  seem  to  border  close  upon  the  lower  regions.  One  can 
imagine  almost  any  deed  of  darkness  as  having  been 
perpetrated  there  in  years  past,  and,  for  aught  I  know, 
in  the  penetralia  where  no  profane  foot  may  w^alk 
such  deeds  are  done  now ;  certainly  licentiousness  riots 
there  and  no  one  can  say  nay.     Oh,  this  heathenism  is 


256  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

a  fearful  thing ;  you  dislike  to  look  into  it  to  explore 
its  secrets,  for  you  feel  almost  certain  that  there  is  no 
wickedness  which  is  undiscoverable  there,  and  that 
could  you  fathom  all  its  depths  and  penetrate  all  its 
hidden  recesses,  forms  of  crime  would  meet  you  that 
you  never  dreamed  of  or  thought  man  capable  of  com- 
mitting. 

In  such  a  state  of  society  how  can  we  look  at  once 
for  a  pure,  spotless  church?  The  family  is  no  longer, 
or  not  yet,  the  sacred  spot  that  it  is  at  home.  It  is 
impossible  to  guard  a  child  from  evil  as  one  may  at 
home.  As  far  as  we  can,  we  encourage  the  forming 
of  Christian  communities  in  villages  where  Christianity 
has  made  any  progress,  though  we  are  glad  too  to  have 
a  genuine  Christian  testifying  for  Christ  among  the 
heathen  where  He  was  found.  In  certain  cases  one 
should  abide  in  the  spot  as  well  as  in  the  calling 
wherein  he  was  called.  It  is  a  pleasant  thing  to  find 
here  and  there  a  faithful  laborer  for  Christ,  and  to  hear 
the  testimony  of  his  faithfulness  from  the  heathen. 
The  other  day  as  I  was  out  with  a  missionary  we  came 
across  a  man  and  had  a  long  talk  with  him.  He  finally 
said — "Abraham  has  told  us  all  about  this."  Abra- 
ham was  a  poor  man,  an  out-caste,  not  allowed  to  have 
his  dwelling  near  the  other  villagers,  but  living  on  a 
rocky  hill  with  others  of  his  own  position.  Two  years 
ago  he  came  to  Mr.  Rendall  and  asked  to  be  baptized. 
Mr.  Rendall  examined  him,  but  to  all  his  questions  he 
got  but  one  reply,  "  I  am  a  sinner ;  Jesus  died  for  me." 
He  did  not  refuse  the  poor  man's  request ;  and  from 
that  day  Abraham,  as  he  was  named,  has  preached  in 
his  poor,  but  acceptable  way,  to  the  people  of  the  vil- 
lage.    Thus  here  and  there  the  gospel  penetrates  ;  we 


DAVID   COIT   SCUDDER.  257 

SOW  the  seed,  it  shoots  up  and  runs  along,  and  shoots 
again,  and  so  it  will  continue  to,  we  believe. 

Our  work  in  form  is  not  materially  different  from 
yours,  but  how  widely  different  are  the  fields  we  cul- 
tivate. We  see,  when  the  truth  takes  effect,  another 
proof  of  the  mysteriousness  of  that  process  by  which 
the  soul  accepts  the  truth  and  is  changed  by  it.  It  is 
a  process  whose  nature  theology  does  not  teach.  How 
utterly  hopeless  heathenism  is !  I  was  reading  the 
other  day,  in  a  book  comparing  Hinduism  and  Chris- 
tianity, of  the  characteristic  traits  of  the  contrasted 
faiths.  The  element  of  the  Christian  or  Biblical  relig- 
ion in  all  its  history  was  Hope.  But  of  the  lack  of 
that  in  Hinduism  I  had  an  instance  at  sight  yester- 
day. As  I  was  walking  through  a  street  I  heard  a 
loud,  mournful  wailincr.  Lookino;  into  the  house  whence 
it  issued  I  saw  a  sight  that  really  touched  me.  Three 
elderly  women  sat  on  the  floor  facing  each  other,  with 
their  arms  closed  round  each  others'  necks ;  they  were 
swaying  to  and  fro,  with  their  heads  bowed,  and  pour- 
ing forth  most  doleful  lamentations.  Some  one  had 
died  in  the  house,  and  they  were  thus  giving  vent  to 
their  grief  In  that  death  there  was  no  hope ;  no  re- 
lieving feature  in  that  departure  from  earth.  The 
people  dislike  to  think  of  it.  Speak  to  them  of  their 
certain  death  at  some  future  dav,  and  they  start  back 
with  an  involuntary  cry,  thinking  the  mere  mention  of 
the  name  of  death  an  ill  omen  to  them. 

....  Let  me  sketch  a  day's  life.  I  rise  at  six, 
bathe,  order  pony,  mount  and  ride  two  or  three  miles 
out,  planning  to  stop  in  some  of  the  countless  mud 
villages  at  hand  and  try  my  Tamil  in  preaching  a  little. 
A  crowd  of  twenty  or  more  soon  collect,  I  hand  them. 
17 


258  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

tracts  and  ask  some  simple  question.  There  is  no  lack 
of  answers,  for  such  a  people  to  talk  I  never  did  see. 
I  have  never  met  a  native  yet  who,  if  ordered  to 
preach  a  sermon  on  the  spot  before  a  large  audience, 
would  not  do  it  with  the  greatest  possible  ease.  After 
talking  awhile,  and  becoming  sufficiently  confused  by 
replies  and  counter-questions,  wholly  unintelligible  to 
me,  I  return  home  to  a  cup  of  tea  and  slice  of  toast  at 
seven.  Then  after  studying  either  Genesis  or  Matthew 
an  hour  or  so,  we  sit  down  to  breakfast  at  nine.  After 
breakfast  Tamil  prayers  with  servants,  which  I  am  just 
beginning  to  lead.  Then  I  study  Tamil  stories,  write 
on  sermons  and  do  like  work  until  four  o'clock,  dinner- 
time, the  interval  being  broken  by  tiffin  (luncheon) 
at  one.  At  half-past  five  we  order  our  American 
rockaway,  and  H.  and  I  drive  off  on  some  of  the  nu- 
merous hard,  broad,  pleasant  roads,  to  get  a  long  breath 
of  pure  air,  and  a  freshening  view  of  fields  and  clouds 
and  hills.  We  can  see  the  towering  Pulneys  fifty 
miles  westward,  and  numerous  other  lesser  hills  skirt 
nearly  the  whole  horizon.  Then  comes  tea,  if  we  take 
any,  as  we  have  not  to-night,  and  after  tea  always  letter- 
writing  home.  This  routine  is  broken  up  Thursday 
evening  by  a  prayer-meeting,  occurring  alternately  at 
the  three  houses  near  each  other,  and  by  Sunday.  On 
Sunday  I  attend  Tamil  service  at  church  in  morning, 
and  did  at  one  time  hear  some  boys  recite  in  Sunday- 
school.  In  the  afternoon  I  ride  out  with  Mr.  Kendall  in 
his  ox-bandy  to  some  village  near  by,  where  he  has  a 
congregation.  He  gives  the  meeting  to  me,  and  I  then 
and  there  expound  before  a  poor  set  of  people  who 
form  the  congregations.     So  I  stammer  along 


DAVID  COIT   SCUDDER.  259 

[to    rev.    EVARTS    SCUDDER.] 

Madura,  Dec.  6,  1861. 

....  To-night  I  ought  to  feel  in  just  the  mood  for 
talking  with  home  friends,  for  we  are  fairly  alone  in 
our  house,  the  first  time  in  six  weeks.  So  we  are  sitting 
in  our  hall,  all  doors  open,  —  no  windows  in  the  house 
you  know,  —  H.  by  me  just  beginning  to  write.  S.'s 
vase  is  the  prominent  object  on  the  table,  topped  as  it  is 
by  a  pyramidal  bouquet  and  set  off  by  a  dish  full  of  flow- 
ers by  its  side.  "  Rivers  of  France  "  lies  by  it,  and  our 
book-rack,  with  "  Palfrey's  New  England,"  "  Oxford 
Essays,"  "  Irving's  Knickerbocker,"  ''  Shedd's  Augus- 
tine," "  Lyra  Domestica,"  "  Companions  of  My  Soli- 
tude," and  so  on,  to  set  it  off,  and  show  our  daily 
reading.  Our  famous  fluid  gas-lamp  casts  a  genial 
glow  over  the  whole,  while  the  old  eight-day  clock 
ticks  familiarly  from  the  wall.  What  a  good  time  we 
would  have  could  S.  and  you  and  Charley  drop  in  on 
us.  It  is  really  home  within  these  walls,  though  the 
thud !  thuddety-thud !  of  a  sorcerer  comes  to  us  on  the 
evening  breeze,  as  he  beats  his  drum  not  far  off,  and 
dins  heathenism  into  our  ears. 

....  My  reading  is  not  particularly  elevating.  I 
translate  Todd's  stories  into  Tamil  and  Tamil  stories 
into  English.  The  latter  are  generally  barren  enough. 
One  of  the  best  I  met  with  to-day.  Two  swans  and  a 
turtle  wanted  to  migrate  from  a  tank,  but  the  turtle 
said  he  did  n't  know  how  to  go.  So  the  swans  told 
him  to  take  hold  of  a  stick  with  his  mouth,  and  they 
would  carry  him  between  them,  but  they  charged  him 
not  to  talk  on  the  way.  As  they  were  flying  with  him 
over  a  village,  the  people  saw  them  and  laughed.  The 
turtle  hearing  the  great  noise  forgot  the  charge,  and 


260  LIFE  AND   LETTERS   OF 

asked  what  it  was ;  whereupon,  having  opened  his 
mouth  to  talk,  down  he  dropped  and  was  speedily- 
extinguished.  "  So,"  is  the  moral,  "  will  it  be  with 
all  who  do  not  heed  friendly  advice." 

....  I  keep  a  book  to  note  down  impressions  and 
facts,  and  whenever  I  put  one  in,  I  think  to  myself 
how  will  this  sound  twelve  years  hence  in  a  speech  at 
home  ?  You  see  home  is  not  all  lost  to  me.  I  am  as 
happy  here  as  I  ever  could  be  at  home,  and  if  I  choose 
to  avail  myself  of  them  there  are  opportunities  for  use- 
fulness, equal  at  least  to  such  as  meet  you. 

[journal  letter.] 

Dec.  20. 

In  my  last  entry  I  said  "  news  is  rare,  nowadays." 
But  times  have  changed.  There  is  a  wee  bit  of  news 
which  I  may  communicate  to  the  home  public.  It  is 
in  the  shape  of  a  little  girl  who  has  dawmed  upon  our 
Indian  home  during  this  past  week.  It  is  a  very  awk- 
ward position  to  put  a  man  in,  this  of  chronicler  of 
such  an  event.  One  is  in  danger  of  exaggerating  the 
importance  of  the  occurrence  and  its  destined  effect 
upon  the  fortunes  of  the  world,  when  he  is  himself  an 
interested  party.  Besides,  what  can  one  say  about  such 
a  small  matter  as  this  particular  one  is.  It  has  of 
course  been  duly  weighed  and  compared  with  all  other 
babies,  and  positively  declared  to  be  the  crowning  baby, 
and  to  resemble  remarkably  both  sides  of  the  house. 
But  I  find  some  drawbacks  to  its  perfection.  It  has  a 
most  unaccountable  faculty  at  sleeping,  and  the  utter 
coolness  with  which  it  drops  asleep  night  and  day  is  to 
me  perfectly  appalling,  suggesting  most  unhappily  the 
fat  boy  in  Pickwick.    Pray,  do  all  babies  indulge  thus  ? 


DAVID  COIT   SCUDDER.  261 

and  do  they  think  there  is  nothing  better  to  do?  I 
think  this  baby  takes  after  its  fatlier,  who  would  in- 
dulge in  the  same,  if  he  dared.  It  is  the  fashion  here 
to  advertise  your  babies,  so  the  first  duty  which  I  had 
to  attend  to  was  to  write  notes  indefinitely,  announcing 
the  arrival  of  a  new  member  in  our  circle.  Replies 
of  congratulation  are  pouring  in,  and  with  them  all 
sorts  of  knicknacks  for  baby. 

[If  the  last  letter  contained  the  only  announcement 
of  the  birth  of  my  brother's  child,  one  might  be  sur- 
prised, knowing  his  temperament,  at  the  matter-of-fact 
way  in  which  it  was  made.  But  this  was  a  letter  for 
general  circulation  among  his  friends  at  home  ;  he  had 
already  given  vent  to  his  feelings  in  a  previous  special 
letter  to  his  mother,  brimful  of  the  most  grotesque  ex- 
pressions ;  in  that  he  capered  about  the  subject  with 
the  most  amusing  mental  antics,  laughing  and  half 
crying  by  turns ;  and  afterward  in  private  letters  he  was 
running  over  with  glee  whenever  he  began  to  speak 
of  his  child,  which  was  not  seldom,  as  may  be  guessed. 
Even  in  his  more  public  letters  he  had  sometimes  to  say 
what  he  wanted  to,  but  generally  he  practised  a  reason- 
able restraint  which  I  follow  with  some  reluctance. 

I  have  not  though. t  it  necessary  to  print  the  frequent 
comments  upon  the  progress  of  the  war  in  America. 
When  the  missionaries  landed  at  Madras  they  were 
first  made  aware  of  the  breaking  out  of  hostilities,  and 
with  every  fresh  intelligence  they  wrote  cheerfully  or 
despondently  according  as  affairs  looked  prosperous  or 
doubtful.  They  could  not  help  making  speculations 
respecting  the  issue,  immediate  or  final,  but  these  when 
they  reached  America  were  generally  amusing  from 


262  LIFE  AND   LETTERS   OF 

their  remoteness  from  fact.  It  was  rather  disagreeable 
also  to  be  reminded  four  months  afterward  of  untoward 
events  which  we  were  all  trying  to  forget.  In  every 
letter  David  wrote  earnestly  about  the  war,  though 
visited,  every  once  in  a  while,  by  the  reflection  that  his 
comments  must  be  very  odd  when  read  so  long  after 
the  events  commented  upon  had  taken  place.] 

[journal  letter.] 

Dec.  24. 

....  This  is  delicious  weather.  I  have  just  looked 
at  the  thermometer.  It  stands  at  78°  in  this  room. 
The  mornings  are  very  cool  and  bracing,  and  we  never 
think  of  complaining  of  heat  at  all  in  the  day.  I  never 
was  more  comfortable  at  home,  except  that  I  am  con- 
stantly catching  cold.  This  is  Christmas  eve.  We 
have  no  snow  or  frost  here ;  if  we  should  celebrate  the 
day  at  all,  it  would  be  in  honor  of  the  victory  which 
an  extra  telegram  apprises  us  of  to-day  —  the  capture  of 
Beaufort.  We  have  been  on  tiptoe  ever  since  hearing 
of  the  fleet's  sailing,  and  have  been  looking  out  for 
good  news.    Now  it  has  come,  and  we  take  a  good  long 

breath As  soon  as  a  teleo;ram  reaches  Madura 

it  is  copied  and  sent  to  every  missionary.  We  are  not 
dead  here,  I  can  tell  you,  and  almost  every  shade  of 
political  sentiment  at  the  North,  outside  of  radical 
pro-slavery  views,  finds  its  representative  and  strenuous 
advocate  amongst  us. 

Dec.  26. 

I  must  add  one  sentence,  thouo^h  I  have  been  out  to 
Pasumalie  to  meetino-  to-nicrht.  Just  before  startino;  I 
caught  sight  of  a  donkey  trespassing  on  our  grounds. 
So,  as  I  am  a  sworn  foe  to  all  this  kind,  I  sang  out  to 


DAVID   COIT   SCUDDER.  263 

the  gardener  to  put  him  in  the  pound,  but  instead  of 
saying  kaliithei,  donkey,  I  said  kalantliei^  baby,  and 
coolly  told  him  to  impound  the  baby.  It  shows  where 
my  mind  runs,  but  the  gardener  looked  dumbfounded, 
and  there  was  an  ominous  whispering  among  the  ser- 
vants near. 

This  morning  we  were  astounded  out  of  measure  by 
a  telegram  from  Madras  :  "  An  unofficial  telegram  an- 
nounces that  England  has  declared  war  with  the  United 
States  on  account  of  the  forcible  seizure  of  the  Con- 
federate Commissioners  from  a  West  India  mail  steam- 
er," or  something  to  that  effect.  It  was  a  bomb  thrown 
into  our  company,  coming  right  upon  the  last  good 
news.  What  can  it  be?  All  here  pronounce  it  a 
hoax,  yet  the  rumor  is  bad  enough.  One  of  the  first 
effects  I  thought  of  as  following  a  rupture  was,  that 
you  might  not  hear  of  baby's  birth  ! 

....  Christmas  this  year  chanced  to  agree  with  a 
heathen  feast-day,  and  there  was  quite  a  display  by  the 
votaries  of  the  great  idol  here.  A  great  procession 
went  round  the  city,  accompanying  images  of  the  god- 
dess and  her  spouse.  They  were  borne  in  tw^o  immense 
bamboo  pyramidal  pavilions  on  the  shoulders  of  men. 
Two  elephants  W'ith  gay  trappings  stalked  along  with 
the  crowd,  and  lots  of  men  bearing  umbrellas  with  im- 
mensely long  handles,  having  no  apparent  use.  The 
feast-day  is  in  connection  with  some  legend  of  the  tute- 
lary deity  of  Madura,  and  one  of  the  peculiar  features 
of  the  show  is  that  bushels  of  rice  are  thrown  to  the 
.  ants,  in  commemoration,  they  say,  of  something  that 
the  idol  did  ages  back.  I  saw  men  bearing  rice  and 
scattering  it  by  ant-holes  on  the  road-side.  Just  at 
the  gate  I  came  upon  a  crowd  surrounding  a  man  who 


264  LIFE  AND   LETTERS  OF 

was  fitted  out  in  a  most  comical  manner.  He  was 
wearing  crinoline,  but  in  a  way  that  made  him  appear 
as  if  riding  horseback.  The  crinoline  frame  was  shaped 
like  a  horse,  with  a  head  projecting  forward.  It  was  a 
droll-looking  thing,  not  exactly  a  perfect  illusion,  but 
enough  to  puzzle  you  as  to  how  the  thing  was  fixed. 
The  people  here  certainly  love  fun. 

Dec.  30. 

....  This  is  weighing  day,  baby  Julia  having 
completed  another  week  of  her  earthly  existence,  but 
we  forgot  to  do  our  duty.  You  would  laugh  to  see 
how  reverentially  the  natives  treat  her.  Every  morn- 
ing regularly  the  sweeping-woman,  when  she  comes  in, 
marches  up  to  the  bed  and  presents  her  respects  to  the 
miss  ;  and  Mrs.  Capron's  cook  coming  in  to-day  called 
on  us,  and  presented  Julia  with  a  posy,  making  a  most 
profound  salaam.  All  the  first  class  in  the  girls'  school 
came  over  on  Saturday  last  to  see  her,  and  amused  us 
mightily  by  measuring  where  her  feet  came  to,  to  see 

how  short  she  was. 

January  1,  1862. 

Happy  New  Year!  Well,  we  renew  our  journey 
under  a  new  sky  and  under  different  auspices  from 
those  which  smiled  on  us  one  year  ago,  and  as  I  write 
the  words,  "  Happy  New  Year,"  it  is  with  a  sad  and 
heavv  heart  that  has  been  weighino;  me  down  for  a 
fortnight  past.  Will  these  words  ever  reach  your  ear  ? 
....  But  I  won't  write  useless  words,  but  be  a  faith- 
ful chronicler,  until  we  hear  that  further  writing  is 
useless.  Yesterday  we  all  went  out  to  dine.  When  • 
we  got  home,  about  half-past  ten,  I  found  quite  a 
gathering  of  servants  on  the  back  veranda,  plotting 
about  something,  and  guessing  what,  I  drew  back  and 


DAVID   COIT  SCUDDER.  265 

said  nothing.  All  night  there  was  confused  talking 
and  all  sorts  of  noises,  and  lo  !  on  waking  and  opening 
the  front  doors,  all  the  veranda  was  decorated  with 
plantain-stalks  and  leaves,  festooned  gracefully  along 
the  whole  length,  and  adorned  further  by  bunches  of 
flowers,  hanging  from  strings.  It  was  quite  a  pretty 
sight,  and  spoke  well  for  the  taste  of  our  household. 
There  was  to  be  a  meeting  at  half-past  eight,  so  we 
breakfasted  at  seven.  After  we  had  done,  Savarimuttu 
asked  H.  to  sit  still,  and  retiring,  returned  presently 
heading  the  whole  troop,  tailor,  washer-man,  cook-boy, 
gardener,  horse-keeper,  sweeper,  and  ayah  (nurse), 
bearing  a  big  tray  covered  with  golden  plantains. 
Each  of  the  company  then  presented  each  of  us  with  a 
lime  and  little  posy,  while  two  or  three  hung  garlands 
of  flowers  round  our  necks.  Baby  was  summoned,  and 
tailor  hung  about  its  precious  neck  a  pure  and  delicate 
wreath  made  of  the  beautiful  pith.  It  was  a  really 
lovely  gift.  Savarimuttu  also  presented  H.  with  quite 
a  pretty  pith  dove  perched  on  wire.  We  could  n't 
keep  our  heavy  garlands  on  long,  so  H.  took  hers  off, 
and  Savarimuttu  very  gracefully  hung  It  upon  father's 
picture,  making  a  profound  salaam  ;  whereupon  I,  tak- 
ing the  hint,  hung  mine  on  H.'s  father's  picture,  and 
paid  my  respects  likewise.  All  appeared  greatly  de- 
lighted. 

Jan.  4. 
Courage  revives  ;  details  of  news  by  to-day's  paper 
leads  me  to  hope  that  war  will  be  averted  and  news  of 
baby  reach  you!  To-night  it  rains  steadily,  an  im- 
mense blessing,  if  it  will  but  rain  enough  to  fill  the 
tanks.  A  famine  is  imminent,  and  nothing  but  a 
plenteous  rain  at  once  can  avert  it.     A  serious  affray 


266  LIFE  AND   LETTERS   OF 

occurred  at  a  village  not  far  distant,  when  two  young 
English  officers  undertook  to  force  a  village,  whose  tank 
was  full,  to  allow  water  to  run  from  it  to  a  tank  belong- 
ing to  a  neighboring  village.  It  was  against  all  cus- 
tom, which  is  law  here,  and  the  consequence  of  the 
attempt  was  that  the  villagers  mustered  in  force,  armed 
with  sHngs.  and  a  fray  ensued  ;  the  Sepoys  under  the 
Encrlish  shot  three  men ;  one  of  their  own  number  and 
an  Englishman  were  wounded.  My  munshi  tells  me 
that  it  is  a  maxim  among  this  people  to  give  their  lives 
for  their  grain. 

....  We  have  a  new  cook.  We  had  to  dismiss 
our  last ;  he  got  wind  of  what  we  were  to  do,  and  ac- 
cordingly drew  up  a  petition,  which  I  add  as  a  sample 
of  the  way  things  are  done  here.  What  lawyer  drew 
it  up  for  him  I  can't  say  —  not  himself 

"  THE  HUMBLE  PETITION  OF  MARIANNAN,  COOK. 

With  all  marks  of  respect  and  submission  I  beg  to 
state  that  I  was  brought  up  from  my  boyhood  in  the 
business  of  maty,  and  was  doing  the  same  until  the  time 
I  was  engaged  as  a  cook  under  you.  This  I  was  obliged 
to  do  partly  for  want  of  demand  (!)  and  partly  to  main- 
tain myself  and  family  in  this  time  of  severe  drought. 
I  am  not  so  much  experienced  in  the  latter  as  I  am  in 
the  former.  I  hope  I  could  easily  and  clearly  manage 
the  business  of  the  maty,  as  well  as  giving  to  the  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  satisfaction  every  way.  This  you  can  readily 
know  by  perusing  my  testimonials.  I  beg  to  state 
lastly,  that  if  you  please,  you  could  exchange  my  pres- 
ent duty  for  that  of  the  maty  Savarimuttu,  who  had 
been  engaged  as  cook  for  the  space  of  three  years  under 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Chandler.     You  will  be  kindly  pleased 


DAVID   COIT   SCUDDER.  267 

to  recommend  me  to  Mr.  Yorke,  who  may,  as  I  hear, 
require  a  hand,  as  his  maty  is  to  leave  him  shortly.  I 
remain,  most  respected  madam,  your  most  obedient 
servant,  Mariannan." 

Perhaps  it  was  not  worth  the  paper,  but  it  will  show 
how  we  do  things.  Every  man  carries  his  reputation 
in  his  pocket,  in  papers  that  he  can't  read,  but  which 
have  to  him  a  magic  cliarm.  Cook's  papers  were 
cautious  enough,  and  would  not  help  him  on.  He 
wanted  me  to  give  him  a  character.  I  declined,  telling 
him  that  it  would  do  him  no  good,  as  I  should  be  ob- 
liged to  state  that  he  was  uniformly  dirty,  sulky,  and 
inefficient.  But  if  I  had  given  it,  I  have  no  doubt  that 
he  w^ould  have  confidentially  presented  it,  with  his  other 
musty  documents,  as  a  strong  and  unimpeachable  testi- 
mony. Even  Savarimuttu's  father,  our  new  cook  pro 
tempore,  must  show  his  papers,  dating  back  to  primeval 
days,  before  he  could  think  himself  lawfully  engaged. 

[SUNDAY-SCHOOL   LETTER.] 

Madura,  South  India,  Jan.  21,  1862. 
My  dear  young  Friends,  —  I  wish  you  could 
go  with  me  to  church  some  Sabbath  morning.  You 
would  see  many  a  strange  sight :  the  rattan-mat  on  the 
floor;  the  windows  without  any  glass  in  them,  and 
with  blinds  that  you  can't  open  ;  the  people  all  sitting 
on  the  floor  ;  men  coming  in  with  bright  turbans  on 
their  heads,  and  leaving  their  shoes  outside ;  the  wo- 
men without  shoes,  and  with  their  heads  covered  by 
the  cloth  which  clothes  their  bodies;  the  babies  in 
their  mothers'  arms,  or  sprawling  about  on  the  floor. 
But    that  which  you  would    notice   above  all    things, 


268  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

I  think,  would  be  forty  or  fifty  girls  from  eight  to  six- 
teen years  old,  sitting  together  in  the  middle  of  the 
church,  and  dressed  in  white  clothes.  With  their  black, 
but  bright  faces,  they  look  as  eagerly  as  any  at  the 
preacher  as  he  tells  them  of  the  way  of  life  ;  or  stand- 
ing up  with  the  rest,  they  lead  off,  with  all  their  might, 
the  sino;ino-  of  their  Christian  songs,  in  tones  that 
would  sound  oddly  enough  to  you.  Who  are  they? 
They  belong  to  the  Madura  Girls'  Boarding-School,  to 
support  which  many  of  you  give  your  pennies  ;  and  if 
you  would  like  to  hear,  I  will  tell  you  something  about 
them. 

These  girls  are  the  children  of  persons  who  have 
become  Christians.  The  heathen  here,  as  I  once  told 
you,  think  that  no  girl  is  good  enough  to  be  taught  to 
read ;  and  so,  in  heathen  schools,  you  see  only  boys. 
But  Christians,  you  know,  say  that  girls  are  as  good 
as  boys,  and  that  all  should  learn  to  read  and  write ; 
so  the  Christians,  in  the  towns  about  Madura,  send 
their  little  daughters  here  to  be  taught  by  Miss  Ash- 
ley, who  has  come  from  America  for  this  very  purpose. 

Now  let  us  follow  these  forty  girls  as  they  march, 
two  by  two,  from  the  church  to  the  school-room,  when 
meeting  is  over.  But  first,  while  they  pass  the  church- 
door,  each  one  as  she  goes  by  touching  her  forehead 
and  saying  "  Saladm  "  (or  "  Good-day  ")  to  you,  let 
me  tell  you  some  of  their  names.  Well,  this  one  is 
*'  Grace."  Very  good,  you  say,  I  know  a  "  Grace." 
These  two,  walking  side  by  side,  are  "  Lazarus  "  and 
*'  David."  What,  these  girls !  Yes,  it  is  very  com- 
mon to  give  the  same  name  to  both  boys  and  girls,  such 
as  "  Health  "  or  "  Blessing;."  Here  aoain  are  "  Pearl  " 
and    "Good-nature,"  and    "Lamp  of  Wisdom,"   and 


DAVID   COIT  SCUDDER.  269 

"Nectar,"  and  "Meekness,"  and  "Peacock,"  and 
"  Grief,"  and  "  Brightness."  Here  come  "  Little 
Thing"  and  "Good  Girl,"  and  last  of  all  "Servant 
of  Jesus  "  and  "  Heavenly  Light."  Children,  how 
would  you  hke  to  be  called  "  Servant  of  Jesus,"  or 
"  Lamp  of  Wisdom  "  ? 

We  come  to  the  school-house,  a  one-storied  building, 
in  the  middle  of  a  large  yard.  On  one  side  are  two 
school-rooms ;  there  are  no  seats,  as  the  girls  sit  on  the 
floor.  Here  they  study,  just  as  you  do,  reading,  writ- 
ing, arithmetic,  and  geography.  Nice  maps  hang  on 
the  walls,  and  black-boards  stand  in  the  corners.  But 
instead  of  writing  on  paper  or  slate,  as  you  do,  they 
write  also  on  the  leaves  of  the  palm-tree,  and  the  very 
little  ones  write  with  their  fingers  in  the  sand.  They 
study  the  Bible  too,  much  more  than  I  did,  when  I 
went  to  school,  and  they  know  it  well. 

On  the  other  side  of  this  house  is  a  long:  room  with 
a  hard  mud  floor.  As  you  go  in,  the  first  thing  you 
notice  is  a  row  of  brass  pans,  stretching  from  one  end 
of  the  room  to  the  other  ;  and  each  one  is  so  bright 
from  scrubbing  that  you  can  see  your  face  in  it. 
These  are  the  dishes  that  the  girls  eat  out  of,  and  each 
girl  has  one,  and  one  only.  They  are  very  proud  of 
them,  and  try  hard  to  see  whose  pan  shall  look  the  best. 
They  eat  rice  four  days  in  the  week  for  breakfast,  din- 
ner and  supper,  and  on  other  days  some  kind  of  corn. 
They  have  a  little  meat  in  their  rice ;  but  nine  cents  a 
day  will  buy  the  meat  for  forty-four  girls,  except  on 
Saturday,  when  they  have  a  better  dinner,  with  twenty- 
four  cents'  worth  of  meat  for  the  whole.  The  mrls  take 
their  turn  in  cooking  and  helping  the  others  to  their  rice. 
On  New  Year's  or  some  other  great  day,  they  have  a 


270  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

sheep  killed  and  have  a  grand  feast.  They  sweep  out 
the  yard  too,  making  brooms  often  out  of  cocoa-nut 
leaves. 

They  all  seem  to  love  the  Bible  ;  and  the  first  thing 
they  do  in  the  morning  is  to  go  to  some  quiet  place, 
and  read  the  Bible  and  pray.  A  blessing  is  always 
asked  before  eating,  and  after  eating  thanks  are  re- 
turned to  God,  each  one  taking  her  turn  from  the  oldest 
to  the  youngest.  While  at  school  they  see  hardly  any 
one  beside  themselves,  as  their  home  is  not  in  Madura  ; 
but  when  vacation  comes  many  of  them  try  to  do  good 
among  the  heathen.  Just  before  the  last  vacation, 
Miss  Ashley  asked  each  one  to  try  and  bring  some  one 
to  church  who  had  never  been  before,  when  they  should 
go  home,  and  tell  what  they  had  done  when  school  be- 
gan again.  So  they  promised,  and  when  they  came 
back  to  school.  Miss  Ashley  asked  them  how  they  had 
succeeded.  "  Well,"  said  one  little  girl,  '^  I  got  a  poor 
old  woman  to  go  to  church ;  but  she  did  n't  stay 
through  the  meeting,  because  she  said  her  shoulder 
ached,  sitting  still  so  long."  Another  bright-eyed  little 
one,  whose  face  is  always  on  a  smile,  and  whose  name 
is  Anthony,  said  she  met  a  tailor,  and  said,  "  You  must 
go  to  church."  "  But  what  for  ?  "  said  the  tailor. 
"  Oh,  come  and  see,"  said  Anthony.  "  But  what  is 
the  use  of  going  to  an  empty  church ;  there  is  nothing 
to  be  seen,  —  no  God."  ''  Oh,  yes,  there  is  too,"  replied 
Anthony  ;  "  our  God  is  in  church,  even  if  you  can't  see 
him."  But  the  tailor  would  n't  go :  said  he,  "  My  God 
is  on  my  forehead,"  pointing  to  the  holy  ashes  which 
he  had  rubbed  there.  But  was  n't  that  little  Anthony 
a  brave  little  missionary  ? 

These  school-girls  all  seem  to  love  to  pray,  and  they 


DAVID   COIT   SCUDDER.  271 

pray  just  as  children  ought  to,  about  all  their  troubles, 
no  matter  how  small  they  seem.  One  little  girl,  who 
finds  it  not  very  easy  to  get  her  lessons,  goes  to  God, 
and  tells  Him  how  hard  her  sums  are  ;  that  she  has 
tried  hard,  but  can't  do  them,  and  asks  Him  to  help 
her  ;  and  I  have  no  doubt  He  does. 

These  school-girls  seem  as  bright  and  happy  as  any 
I  ever  saw  at  home,  and  most  of  them  grow  up  to 
love  the  Saviour,  and  hve  useful  lives.  But  it  isn't 
always  so ;  and  I  must  tell  you  a  story  about  two  girls 
who  had  been  in  the  school  nearly  eight  years,  but  who 
have  now  left  us  altogether.  They  are  children  of  a 
man  called  John,  who  was  a  few  years  ago  a  Christian 
teacher,  whom  all  loved.  But  one  day  he  heard  that 
he  could  earn  a  great  deal  of  money  by  selling  rum. 
The  devil  tempted  him  and  he  fell.  He  opened  a  rum- 
shop,  and  the  next  thing  he  did  was  to  send  for  his  two 
daughters,  who  were  here  at  school,  to  come  and  help 
him.  What  could  be  done  ?  He  was  their  father  and 
they  must  obey  him.  They  went,  and  I  'm  sorry  to 
tell  you  that  it  was  n't  long  before  we  heard  that  they 
were  indeed  helping  their  father  to  sell  rum,  and  thus 
helping  to  ruin  others,  while  they  themselves  had  given 
up  Christ,  and  put  on  heathen  marks  I  It  was  a  sad, 
sad  fall ;  but  you  will  be  glad  to  learn  that  the  other 
girls,  who  remain  in  the  school,  pray  to  God  every  day 
that  Mary  and  her  sister  may  yet  again  come  back  and 
follow  Christ.  Perhaps  you  will  pray  for  these  two 
wandering  ones  this  night.     Will  you  not? 

This  last  is  a  dark  picture,  but  let  me  show  you  a 
bright  one.  It  shall  be  about  that  little  girl  who  prayed 
to  God  to  help  her  get  her  lessons.  She  lives  about 
forty  miles  from  Madura.     Her  father  is  a  poor  man, 


272  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

and  lie  alone,  of  all  the  people  in  his  village,  is  a  Chris- 
tian. There  is  no  minister  where  he  lives ;  so  every 
Sunday  he  collects  together  the  heathen  and  preaches 
to  them.  After  his  little  daughter  had  been  here  only 
one  term  of  a  few  months,  she  went  home  to  spend 
vacation.  Sabbath-day  came,  but  her  father  was  too 
sick  to  talk.  The  people  came  to  the  house  for  meet- 
ing ;  what  could  be  done  ?  A  boy  was  found  who  could 
read.  He  was  a  heathen,  but  he  read  the  Bible  to 
them ;  several  of  them  could  sing  ;  but  it  was  the  part 
of  this  little  girl,  not  over  ten  years  old,  to  pray.  Yes, 
she  prayed  before  them  all ;  and  I  am  sure  her  prayer 
was  heard.  But  was  n't  she  a  brave  Christian  ?  Who 
of  you  will  be  like  her  ?  It  is  to  send  such  girls  to 
school  that  you  give  your  money. 

Here  I  must  stop.  In  a  week  or  tw^o  I  am  to  move 
to  a  home  of  my  own,  where  I  shall  find  plenty  of 
work  to  do.  I  write  these  letters  to  a  great  many  Sun- 
day-school children.  If  all  who  hear  them  offer  one 
prayer  to  God  for  me,  and  the  heathen  around  me, 
God  will  surely  answer  them.  Will  you  join  ? 
Your  sincere  friend, 

David  C.  Scudder. 

[journal  letter.] 

Jan.  19. 
Mail  leaves  in  three  or  four  days,  and  yet  I  have  not 
written  a  line.  But  events  worthy  of  record  have 
passed.  I  have  been  examined,  approved  and  stationed. 
Henceforth  address  all  communications  of  whatever 
kind,  not  to  Madura,  but  to  Periakulam.  Yes,  I  have 
at  last  a  place  among  men,  a  local  habitation.  But  let 
me   begin,   as   far  as  I  can,  at  the  beginning.      My 


DAVID   COIT   SCUDDER.  273 

examination  in  Tamil,  which  was  to  test  my  capability 
in  that  line,  and  govern  the  mission  respecting  my  ap- 
pointment, took  place  a  week  ago  yesterday.  I  went 
out  to  Pasumalie  with  Mr.  Rendall  to  breakfast  at  eight 
A.  M.  After  breakfast  I  was  set  to  work  translating 
Tamil  into  EnoHsh  and  Enojlish  into  Tamil  until  two 
p.  M.,  save  an  hour  at  noon,  when  I  conducted  a 
weekly  prayer-meeting,  and  talked  to  the  students  of 
the  seminary  on  the  words  "  Grieve  not  the  Holy 
Spirit."  I  spoke  about  half  an  hour,  and  succeeded 
much  better  than  I  expected  to.  Then  after  dinner, 
they  put  me  through  grammar,  reading  Gospels  and 
conversation.  The  last  I  dreaded,  but  as  it  came  last, 
they  let  me  off  easily.  So  I  rode  home  with  a  light 
heart,  confident  that  I  should  be  accepted,  as-  the  event 
proved. 

I  came  home  from  our  annual  meeting  at  Melur  this 
morning  at  three  o'clock.  All  missionaries  attend  the 
regular  mission  meetings  held  thrice  a  year,  in  January, 
May,  and  September.  So  on  Tuesday  evening  about 
nine  o'clock,  Washburn,  who  had  come  in  from  his 
place,  joined  me  in  my  bullock-bandy.  It  was  a  de- 
lightful moonlight  night.     Indeed  you  cannot  fancy  the 

peculiar  brilliancy  of  the  moonlight  here The 

distance  is  eio-hteen  miles,  and  we  reached  Melur  about 

four  o'clock I  awoke  to  find  myself  in  one  of 

the  most  beautiful  regions  about  here,  the  horizon 
bounded  by  hills  on  all  sides.  All  the  missionaries 
were  prompt,  and  we  had  a  jolly  time  greeting  one 
another.  The  providing  for  such  a  company  was  no 
small  matter  in  a  place  where  no  tavern  is  to  be  had, 
and  where  little  or  no  market  is  to  be  found.  But  two 
or  three  took  to  the  church  and  spread  their  cots  there^ 
18 


274  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

some  in  the  house,  while  Washburn  and  I  took  up  our 
lodo-ings  under  a  capacious  tent  which  Mr.  Burnell, 
the  missionary  here,  uses  on  his  tours,  and  which  he 
had  pitched  on  his  ground.  How  I  did  luxuriate  that 
nio-ht,  no  rocking  bandy,  nothing  to  break  in  upon  the 
delicious  repose  but  the  unmerciful  Mr.  Burnell,  who 
roused  us  out  of  bed  by  moonlight  to  give  us  a  bath  in 
his  famous  swimming-basin.  He  has  built  a  big  bath- 
ing-tub, about  a  third  as  large  as  Braman's,*  and  has 
had  it  filled  from  the  well.  It  is  a  rare  treat  to  plunge 
about  in  water,  a  thing  which  I  have  n't  done  since 
leavino;  home.  Such  baths  are  common  amono;  the 
English,  but  we  have  only  two. 

We  had  our  meetings  in  the  church,  and  they  occu- 
pied from  ten  o'clock  to  dusk,  excepting  dinner-time. 
All  scattered  to  walk  by  dark.  There  is  a  famous 
banian-tree  here,  one  of  the  largest  in  the  country.  It 
is  a  splendid  thing,  fully  coming  up  to  my  idea  of  such 
trees,  except  that  the  shoots  are  clustered  nearer  to  the 
trunk  than  I  had  supposed.  We  paced  it.  The  meas- 
urement about  the  outer  circumference  was  one  hun- 
dred and  eighty  paces,  the  diameter  about  forty.  The 
shoots,  as  soon  as  they  enter  the  ground,  swell  at  the 
base  so  that  they  grow  to  look  like  real,  independent 
trees,  and  the  effect  is  fine.  The  length  of  the  unsup- 
ported branches  running  horizontally  out^^'ard  would 
astonish  you. 

The  meeting  is  important,  as  being  the  meeting  at 

which  the  appropriations  for  the  year  are  made 

But  what  interested  me  mostly  was  my  fate.  I  was 
not  kept  long  in  suspense,  for  upon  the  motion  of  Mr. 

*  This  is  a  comparison  which  Boston  boys  only  can  be  expected  to  under- 
stand.    The  basin  must  have  been  about  fifteen  feet  square. 


DAVID  COIT   SCUDDER.  275 

Rendall,  I  was  summarily  appointed  to  the  station  of 
Periakulam ;  of  the  position  and  character  of  the  sta- 
tion I  must  speak  hereafter Thursday  evening 

after  meeting,  we  all  went  on  top  the  house  and  sang 
under  the  open  sky,  with  the  full  moon  looking  benig- 
nantly  upon  us,  "  The  Star-Spangled  Banner,"  with 
all  our  might  and  main.  Somebody  had  given  us  a 
miniature  "  Stars  and  Stripes,"  which  Mr.  Burnell 
waved   over  us.     It  was  a   stirring  time,     I  tell  you, 

there  is  no  unloyal  heart  here I  enjoyed  the 

meeting  highly,  and  came  home  as  I  went.  So  I  am 
stationed.  We  begin  to  move  next  week,  and  I  expect 
to  visit  Periakulam  with  Mr.  Noyes,  who  formerly  had 
the  entire  field  which  now  is  divided.  [This  visit  was 
immediately  made,  and  occupied  a  week  and  a  half,  but 
I  defer  the  narrative  of  it  till  the  next  chapter,  in  order 
to  make  the  description  of  the  place  more  connected. 
He  returned  to  Madura,  remaining  there  only  long 
enough  to  prepare  for  removal,  and  anticipating  with 
eagerness  his  establishment  at  a  station  of  his  own.] 

[to   HORACE    E.  SCUDDER.] 

Madura,  Feb.  6,  1862. 
'  ....  How  many  times  lately  I  have  longed  to  have 
you  or  anybody  from  home  along  with  me.  I  have 
been  off  on  a  tour  and  have  often  been  alone.  Tossins: 
about  in  a  bandy  I  have  ample  time  to  think,  and  such 
jolly  times  as  two  in  a  cart  do  have.  Missionaries  here 
are  fresh  as  boys,  and  the  way  we  chat  about  college 
and  seminary  life  would  amuse  you.  Then  there  is 
always  a  comical  side  to  bandy-travelling  ;  the  bandy- 
man  sitting  cross-legged  on  the  pole,  working  the  bul- 
locks  with    his    hands,   much  as  an   artist  might  two 


276  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

pianos  at  once,  thrumming  on  either  at  will,  with  a 
querulous  expostulation  with  them  for  acting  badly,  — 
"  Don't  I  give  you  your  grass  and  cotton-seed?  Why 
do  you  treat  me  so  ?  "  Thus  they  go  on,  talking  to 
them  as  if  they  were  men.     Oh,  it 's  real  droll. 

I  have  work  enough  before  me  now  ;  a  district  some 
twenty  miles  in  diameter  put  in  my  keeping,  with  the 
charge  "  Till  it."  I  am  fruitful  in  plans,  but  it  is  to  be 
seen  how  they  will  result.  You  at  home  can  have  no 
conception  whatever  of  the  dismal  deep  into  which 
portions  of  the  Hindu  people  have  sunk.  The  sight 
shocks  me  even  to-day,  and  you  can  find  no  terms  so 
expressive  of  your  feelings  as  the  Prophet's  "  Can 
these  bones  live  ?  "  People  who  gloat  over  carrion, 
feast  on  rats  and  vermin,  and  roll  in  filth,  form  the  sta- 
ple of  our  congregations,  that  is,  our  people  come  out 
of  such  castes.  It  is  deplorable,  and  often  very  de- 
pressing. Extremes  in  society  here  are  far  greater  than 
at  home,  even  bringing  into  account  Romanist  Irish. 
I  mean  to  aim  higher,  not  indeed  ambitiously ;  but  I 
question  whether  we  have  not  confined  ourselves  too 
exclusively  to  classes  who  will  hear  us  most  readily. 
The  lowest  of  the  low  have  least  to  lose  in  changing 
their  faith. 

[to  his  sister.] 

Madura,  Feb.  13,  1862. 
....  You  mav  believe  that  beincr  so  soon  to  have 
a  station  of  my  own  I  am  full  of  plans  as  to  how  I 
shall  conduct  it.  I  am  reading  a  little  volume  of 
Dr.  Caldwell's  on  Tinnevelly  Missions.  He  describes 
briefly  but  ably  the  field,  the  work,  the  results.  It  is 
the  best  description  of  our  way  of  working  that  I  have 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  277 

seen.  There  are  lots  of  suggestions  in  it.  My  chief 
task,  aside  from  preaching  to  the  heathen,  will  be  to 
instruct  the  congregations.  I  want  to  have  a  plan  by 
which  the  life  of  Christ  shall  be  studied  in  course  by 
all  the  congregations  simultaneously.  I  mean  to  assign 
Bible  lessons  to  the  catechists,  which  I  shall  go  over 
at  the  monthly  meetings  with  them.  Then  they  teach 
the  same  to  their  people.  So  when  I  visit  them  I  shall 
know  the  lesson  for  the  day  and  be  ready  with  a  talk. 
Systematic,  progressive  instruction,  line  upon  line,  pre- 
cept upon  precept,  is  what  they  need  most  emphati- 
cally. Can't  you  suggest  some  method  of  studying  the 
Bible  ?  Pray  for  me,  that  above  all  things  the  eternal 
welfare  of  the  thousands  under  my  care  may  lie  close 
upon  my  heart,  daily,  hourly. 


278  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

HOME    AT    PERIAKULAM. 

[February- April,  1862.] 

[Periakulam  is  in  the  Madura  District,  and  distant 
from  the  city  of  Madura  about  fifty  miles,  being  a  little 
north  of  west.  It  is  in  the  valley  of  the  Vaikai  River, 
which  rises  in  Kambam,  about  forty  miles  south  of 
Periakulam,  flows  in  a  northerly  direction  between  two 
ranges  of  mountains  for  thirty  miles,  when  it  bends  to- 
ward the  east,  and  flowing  northeast  as  far  as  Battala- 
gundu  changes  its  course  and  flows  southeast  by  the 
city  of  Madura  into  the  Gulf  of  Mannar.  The  valley 
of  the  Vaikai  is  about  twenty  miles  wide  at  Periakulam. 
The  missionary  district  under  this  name  had  been  re- 
cently set  off  from  a  larger  one,  and  was  about  twelve 
miles  in  diameter.  The  letters  and  journal  will  suffi- 
ciently indicate  the  nature  of  the  country  and  charac- 
ter of  the  people.  The  reader  has  seen  how  eagerly 
David  anticipated  his  work  here,  an  eagerness  which 
was  increased  by  the  preliminary  visit  which  he  made 
in  January  with  Mr  Noyes,  when  he  made  a  short  tour 
through  the  field.  His  memorandum  journal  bears  rec- 
ord of  his  earnest  spirit  in  these  words  written  on  the 
day  of  arrival :  —  "  Here  I  am  at  my  own  station,  and 
in  my  own  house  —  home.  Am  pleased  with  the  looks 
of  things,  especially  these  everlasting  hills.  May  the 
blessing  of  Almighty  God,  Father,  Son,  and  Spirit,  be 
with  us.     How  lono;  shall  I  be  here?"     In  a  Httle  less 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  279 

than  ten  months  that  question  was  answered.  His  first 
impressions,  derived  from  his  visit,  are  sliown  at  length 
in  the  following  extracts.] 

[journal  letter.] 

Periakulam,  Jan.  23,  1862. 
Note  this,  my  first  letter  from  my  own  station,  my 
house,  and  to  be  my  home.  I  have  come  here  to  look 
around  and  see  what  needs  to  be  done  before  moving 
here.  Oh  !  it  is  a  grand,  grand  spot.  Right  in  fi^ont, 
as  you  look  off  from  the  veranda,  are  these  towering 
Pulneys  gazing  down  upon  you  in  solemn  front  from  a 
heio[ht  of  over  eio-ht  thousand  feet.  If  I  had  a  mfted 
pen,  I  could  furnish  you  with  any  amount  of  fine  writ- 
ing on  the  subject,  but  must  content  myself  with  a 
bare  description.  The  house  faces  the  north.  The 
spur  of  hills  on  which  is  the  Sanitarium  runs  east  and 
west,  and  you  seem  to  see  each  end  as  you  look  upon 
them  here.  The  eastern  end  terminates  in  a  singularly 
shaped  mountain.  It  tapers  up  quite  to  a  point,  and 
from  its  apex  to  the  base  a  sharp  ridge  runs  very 
straight  and  very  sharp.  Toward  the  west,  some  ten 
miles  away,  the  range  takes  a  turn,  and  two  enormous 
hills  face  you,  each  having  a  capacious  lap.  On  all 
other  sides  are  mountains  also,  but  at  various  distances 
from  you,  some  in  the  distant  horizon,  some  little  hills 
near  by.  The  Pulneys,  immediately  in  front,  are  only 
four  miles  distant,  and  you  may  fancy  how  imposing 
is  their  appearance  with  such  a  uniform  elevation  ex- 
tending for  miles  and  miles  in  unbroken  line.  It  is  a 
grand  site  for  a  house,  and  these  lasting  hills  will  be 
lasting  friends  to  us.  Their  convenience,  in  case  of 
sickness,  the  summit  being  only  five  or  six  hours  dis- 


280  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

tant,  will  at  once  be  apparent.  A  large  valley  Is  all 
about  us,  and  the  scenery  of  the  valley  will  compare 
well  with  that  of  New  England.  I  long  to  bring  H. 
here  to  enjoy  it. 

....  The  church  and  congregation  called  on  me, 
"  the  new  man."  They  came,  headed  by  the  pastor, 
and  bearing  a  basket  of  plantains,  with  a  paper  of  sugar, 
as  a  token  of  greeting.  The  whole  congregation  could 
not  come,  many  being  away ;  about  twenty  presented 
themselves  and  sat  down  before  us  on  the  veranda. 
I  must  say  that  their  first  appearance  was  not  altogether 
favorable.  Half-clad,  dirty,  and  unintellectual,  I  asked 
myself  could  I  find  sympathy  as  a  Christian  here  ? 
But  as  one  countenance  after  another  lighted  up  in  the 
course  of  the  conversation,  I  felt  relieved,  and  could  see 
in  them  not  a  little  to  please  and  encourage  me.  But  it 
is  a  poor  congregation  ;  every  member  is  a  Pariah,  the 
lowest  caste,  and  only  one  or  two  can  read.  Deacon 
Moses  cannot  read.  Moreover  this  church  has  for 
many  years  been  in  a  most  lamentable  condition.  Two 
members,  and  deacons,  I  think,  had  a  quarrel  and  drew 
the  whole  church  after  them.  The  ground  of  the  dis- 
pute has  only  lately  been  removed,  and  as  the  pastor 
said  to  me,  "  the  hate  still  remains." 

Andipatti,  Jan.  26. 
This  is  one  of  the  villages  in  my  field.  As  I  write, 
I  sit  in  a  comfortable  touring-chair,  in  a  thatched-roof 
church,  though  rather  a  modest  edifice  to  be  so  called. 
....  We  left  Periakulam,  eleven  miles  distant,  this 
morning  at  five  o'clock,  while  the  moon  was  shining. 
....  I  walked  a  good  share  of  the  way.  The  road 
is  the  most  like  a  New  England  road  of  any  I  have  seen 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  281 

this  long  while,  up  hill  and  down,  while  most  roads 
here  are  on  a  dead  level.  I  wandered  along  ahead  of 
the  carts,  kicking  over  ant-hills,  from  common-sized 
ones  to  momids  three  feet  high,  looking  at  the  beautiful 
turtle-doves,  and  listening  to  the  notes  of  some  un- 
known songster,  picking  up  a  monstrous  milHpede,  and 
pocketing  it  for  S.,  though  dropping  it  as  it  seemed  in- 
clined to  crawl  upward,  mounting  big  boulders  and  sur- 
veying the  country,  my  fields  all  in  high  spirits 

As  I  walked  along  I  planned  all  sorts  of  tours  or  systems 
of  touring,  so  as  to  reach  all  the  villages.  In  this  station 
of  only  about  twelve  miles  diameter  there  are  many 
villages  that  never  saw  a  missionary.  I  hope  it  will 
not  be  so  very  long.  It  is  an  advantage  which  a  small 
station  has  over  a  large  one,  that  it  can  be  more  thor- 
oughly canvassed,  and  labor  be  spent  more  economi- 
cally. It  will  be  years  before  I  can  effectually  preach 
throughout ;  but  I  have  good  catechists,  and  I  hope 
through  them  to  organize  a  more  thorough  system 
than  has  been  possible  hitherto. 

....  We  dined  at  Andipatti  at  three  o'clock,  and 
immediately  after  got  into  our  bandy  and  started  for  a 
villao-e  seven  miles  distant.  I  got  from  the  head  of 
police  a  list  of  all  the  villages  in  this  police  station. 
You  will  get  some  idea  of  the  country  when  you  hear  that 
within  a  radius  of  eight  miles  there  are  sixty-eight  vil- 
lages, small  and  large,  varying  from  five  to  one  hundred 
houses.  A  populous  country  for  work,  is  it  not  ?  We 
reached  the  village  about  dusk  and  went  to  the  house 
of  a  rich  native  who  belongs  to  the  cono-reo-ation.  He 
is  a  higher  caste  man  than  we  usually  meet  with,  and 
his  influence  is  worth  preserving,  but  he  is  not  a  very 
stable  believer.      He  had  a  long   story  of  grievances 


282  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

to  tell  to  Mr.  Noyes,  and  as  I  sat  under  his  portico,  on  a 
raised  mud  seat,  looking  at  the  singular  group  squatted 
around  us,  I  could  not  help  wishing  that  some  of  you 
could  sit  by  me  and  see  the  sight,  and  look  at  the  man 
speaking,  gesturing  with  natural  grace,  loosing  first  his 
turban  and  then  his  upper  cloth,  in  his  eagerness. 

After  a  night's  rest  in  the  cart,  we  drove  two  miles 
further  the  next  mornino;  to  a  villao;e  where  there  is 
quite  a  prosperous  congregation  of  one  hundred  and 
fifteen  souls.  Mr.  Noyes  preached  to  them,  introduc- 
ing me.  Three  catechists  went  with  us  through  the 
village,  which  is  quite  a  large  one.  We  stopped  at  a 
school  where  quantities  of  boys  flocked  about,  and  Mr. 
Noyes  talked.  Coming  away  a  man  came  along  and 
said  he  wanted  to  join  the  congregation.  We  received 
him  gladly  I  assure  you,  and  were  talking  about  it, 
when  I  said,  "  Here  's  this  man  following  us."  He  was 
a  man  whom  I  had  noticed  as  having  a  most  singular 
countenance.  We  asked  him  what  he  wanted,  and  he 
said,  ^'  I  want  to  join  you."  Here  were  two  !  a  most 
unusual  occurrence.  I  talked  with  him.  He  said  that 
he  had  given  up  his  idols  six  months  ago,  and  I  was 
interested  too  to  find  that  he  had  heard  of  the  gospel 
from  Ragland  and  his  associates,  church  missionaries  in 
Tinnevelly,  while  living  there.  Thus  the  word  is 
sown,  thus  it  yields  fruit.  You  can  hardly  conceive 
of  the  very  peculiar  joy  I  had  in  seeing  these  two 
comino;  to  us. 

[A  month  later  the  young  missionaries  had  removed 
from  Madura  and  were  established  permanently  at  their 
new  home,  in  season  to  celebrate  the  anniversary  thus 
pleasantly  spoken  of.] 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  283 

[journal  letter.] 

Periakulam,  Feb.  27,  1862. 
One  year  ago  there  was  a  wedding  in  Boston.  To- 
day the  bride  and  groom  are  comfortably  housed  in  a 
bungalow  in  South  India,  their  own  house,  with  a  baby 
to  adorn  it.  Yes,  here  we  are,  sixteen  miles  from  our 
nearest  white  neighbor,  settled  at  last  in  a  station  of 
our   own,  as  happy,  as  comfortable,  as  well   as  if  we 

were  in   a   country  parish  at  home We  went 

first  to  Battalagundu,  where  Washburn  is  stationed, 
and  from  there  took  our  own  horse-carriage.  We  had 
Washburn's  horse  for  the  first  eight  miles,  I  having 
posted  mine  half-way  on.  A  horse  here  w^ould  be 
pretty  well  used  up  if  he  should  go  sixteen  miles  on  a 
stretch.  But  we  did  enjoy  that  drive.  I  had  been 
counting  on  driving  in  our  own  carriage,  and  we  were 
well  repaid.  We  started  just  before  sunrise,  and  had 
a  cool  time  of  it  for  the  first  half  of  the  way.  Then 
the  road  was  so  like  home  roads,  up  hill  and  down, 
rocks  and  roots  and  ruts,  reminding  us  of  an  up-coun- 
try road  in  New  England.  The  grand  Pulneys  always 
in  sight  and  always  to  be,  the  cool  bracing  air,  the 
flocks  of  new,  gay-colored  birds  outside,  and  the  little 
bird  nestling  inside,  all  helped  to  make  the  drive  a 
happy  one.  Then  the  house,  when  within  four  miles, 
kept  peeping  in  and  out  between  the  trees,  as  we 
rounded  one  hill  and  another,  looking  so  clean  and 
white  in  its  new  dress.  All  the  servants  were  on  the 
veranda  to  receive  us,  and  I  took  H.  about  to  look 
upon  our  new  possessions.  Keeping  house  here  is  not 
exactly  what  it  is  at  home,  there  is  so  much  shed-room, 
and  there  are  so  many  servants.  Thus  we  have  a  row 
of  buildings,  as  long  as  the  house,  of  go-downs  as  they 


284  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

call  them,  the  big  store-room  and  the  little  store-room, 
the  kitchen,  the  hen-house  and  dove-cote,  and  here  the 
travellers'  go-down ;  then  the  horse  and  carriage  stalls, 
and  extra  shed-room  for  travellers  to  the  hills.  Every- 
thing is  on  one  floor,  and  all  on  a  large  scale,  as  I  shall 
show  more  minutely  hereafter.  The  house  has  been 
newly  whitewashed,  outside  and  in,  and  all  the  wood- 
work oiled.  We  have  glass  windows,  which  is  quite  a 
luxury  here.  In  Madura  we  had  no  windows  at  all,  to 
say  nothing  of  glass.  You  would  think  these  rather 
odd.  The  lower  part  is  glass  doors,  the  upper  Venetian 
blinds.  The  doors  are  Venetian  for  the  upper,  and 
solid  for  the  lower  half,  while  above  them  again  is  a 
glass  window.  In  Madura,  if  you  shut  the  doors  you 
were  in  darkness  ;  here  you  can  still  see  and  tell  when 
morning  breaks.  And  oh,  when  it  does  break,  what 
delicious  air  !  I  astonished  H.  one  morning  by  bring- 
ing in  the  thermometer,  and  showing  her  the  mercury 
shivering  at  60°,  five  degrees  lower  than  Mr.  Winslow 
said  he  had  ever  known  it  in  India. 

....  I  want  to  give  you  a  complete  survey  of  our 
state  and  position.  So  I  will  go  over  the  servants, 
praying  that  you  may  not  be  appalled  by  their  number. 
First  is  the  all-essential  Francis  Xavier  or  Savarimuttu, 
our  maty  or  chief  servant.  Next  is  Vetham,  Sav.'s 
father,  who  is  cook.  Next  is  tailor.  The  ayah,  who 
does  well  with  baby,  is  black  as  a  coal,  wears  a  jewel 
or  ornament  in  her  nose,  and  rivals  the  "  fat  boy  "  at 
sleeping.  There  is  the  sweeper-woman  who  does  the 
drudgery.  She  is  here  only  temporarily.  Horse-keeper, 
called  Mumyandi,  "  Lord  of  Sages ;  "  two  gardeners, 
one,  Pearl  of  Wisdom.  Then  there  is  a  watchman 
paid  by  the  mission.    We  have  also  a  taj)-dl-m2Ln  (pro- 


DAVID   COIT   SCUDDER.  285 

nounced  tap-paul)  who  goes  once  a  week  to  Madura 
and  back  with  a  tin  box  on  his  head,  keeping  us  in 
communication  with  the  metropohs. 

Now  that  we  have  a  station  we  have  catechists  under 
our  charge.  Here  at  Periakulam  the  catechist  is  Man- 
uel, an  Indo-Briton,  or  East  Indian,  or  Eurasian,  or 
Half-caste,  as  such  are  variously  termed.  He  dresses 
like  a  European,  but  looks  much  like  a  native.  He  is 
a  good  business-hand,  and  such  a  man  is  much  needed 
here,  when  people  arrive  on  their  way  to  and  from  the 
hills.  There  is  here  also  a  church  and  a  native  pastor. 
His  name  is  Seymour.  His  church  is  a  mile  from 
here,  and  he  has  pretty  much  the  sole  care  of  it.  It  is 
in  a  part  of  the  town  called  Fort  Hill.  At  Andipatti 
is  Kurubatham,  "  Teacher's  Foot,"  and  at  two  villages 
near  by,  Guandmuttu,  "Pearl  of  Wisdom,"  and  De- 
vanaikam,  "  Divine  Lord,"  or  some  such  meaning.  I 
shall  introduce  them  to  you  more  formally  when  I  visit 
their  villao-es. 

....  I  must  give  you  as  far  as  I  can  a  description 
of  our  house  and  surroundino-s.  Before  reaching  the 
town,  about  a  mile  this  side,  turn  sharp  to  the  left  and 
stand  still.  At  the  end  of  a  long,  narrow  lane,  nearly 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  long,  is  a  whitewashed  gate,  between 
two  high  whitewashed  posts,  commanding  the  entrance 
to  the  mission  compound  ;  a  mud  wall,  coped  with  brick 
and  mortar,  whitewashed  upon  the  top,  surrounds  the 
whole,  enclosing  a  space  of  about  six  acres.  Looking 
beyond  the  gate,  through  an  avenue  of  rather  scant 
trees,  peeps  out  the  house.  It  is  a  low,  one-storied, 
flat-roofed  house,  standing  in  about  the  middle  of  the 
enclosure.  On  the  left  is  the  modest  church.  To  the 
left  of  that,  outside  the  mud  wall,  are  the  mud,  straw- 


286  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

thatched  houses  of  the  catechists  and  house-servants. 
A  couple  of  rods  back  of  the  wall,  running  almost 
round  two  sides  of  the  house,  is  the  river  or  branch  of 
the  Vaikai  River  which  flows  by  Madura.  Periakulam 
itself  is  divided  into  two  parts,  called  South  Branch 
and  North  Branch,  according  as  it  lies  south  or  north 
of  the  stream. 

Well,  will  you  walk  up  to  the  house  ?  or,  as  we 
don't  walk  much  in  this  country,  drive  with  us  in  our 
bandy?  Entering  the  compound,  on  the  left  is  grass 
as  far  as  the  east  wall,  scanty  enough,  and  scattered 
about  are  young  palmyra  palms,  only  about  four  feet 
high,  with  their  stiff,  fan-shaped  leaves.  On  the  right 
is  grass  half-way  up  to  the  west  wall.  The  other  half 
is  taken  up  with  a  garden  in  which  are  about  twenty 
young  cocoa-nut  trees,  ten  feet  high,  some  mango- 
trees,  and  a  spot  for  potatoes  and  any  vegetables. 
To-day  the  gardeners  set  out  some  plantain-roots  or 
bulbs.  Driving  toward  the  house,  and  looking  beyond 
it  to  the  right,  you  see  a  little  gate  which  lets  you  out 
to  the  river,  a  feAV  steps  below.  Built  up  level  with  the 
compound,  outside  of  the  walls,  is  the  brick-and-mortar 
well,  into  which  the  river-water  is  draAvn  by  a  little 
channel,  giving  us  plenty  of  water  for  the  garden,  and 
overhanging  that  is  the  big  well-sweep,  like  those  at 
home,  save  that  for  a  stone  to  balance,  a  man  walks  on 
ft  back  and  forth,  holding  on  by  a  bamboo  frame  built 
for  the  purpose  at  the  side,  and  another  man  draws  up 
the  bucket.  Seen  against  the  sky,  the  whole  affair  is 
quite  picturesque.  At  an  equal  distance  inside  the  wall, 
just  back  of  the  house  is  the  regular  well  of  pure  drink- 
ing-water, with  its  channels  through  which  the  water 
runs  into  the  garden  below.     A  garden  here  is  divided 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  287 

off  into  small  beds  surrounded  witli  channels,  and  so 
fixed  that  by  a  stroke  of  the  spade  the  water  can  be 
turned  mto  any  at  will. 

Turning  Pegu's  head  to  the  left,  Ave  dismount  and 
make  a  low  bow.  Ascend  three  steps  and  you  are  on  a 
veranda  laid  with  square  bricks,  covered  with  mortar 
rubbed  to  a  polish.  Above,  you  see  rafters  with  slit 
bamboos  laid  across,  supporting  the  tiles  of  the  veranda 
roof.  The  veranda  runs  in  front  and  partly  round  two 
sides  ;  a  post  is  planted  at  each  end,  and  you  might 
any  morning  see  Pegu  tied,  and  the  horse-keeper  groom- 
ing him,  beginning  with  pieces  of  brick.  This  insures 
his  being  well  groomed  and  fed.  There  are  four  doors 
in  front  and  two  windows  on  each  end.  But  we  have 
been  outside  long  enough ;  walk  in.  The  first  thing 
that  strikes  you  is  the  height  and  bareness  of  the  walls. 
We  are  in  the  hall  or  parlor.  The  walls  of  this,  as  of 
all  the  rooms,  are  fifteen  feet  high,  and  all  whitewashed 
exactly  as  the  outside.  The  hall  is  twenty-seven  feet 
long  and  eighteen  wide,  and  the  dining-room  back  is 
of  the  same  size.  You  look  from  either  hall-door 
(there  are  two  opening  from  the  front  veranda)  right 
through  a  doorless  doorway  to  a  corresponding  door  in 

the  dining-room,  opening  upon  the  back  veranda 

The  floor  is  covered  with  a  big,  rough  matting  made  of 
slit  ratan.  The  ceiling  resembles  somewhat  that  of 
old-fashioned  houses.  Two  enormous  beams  run  across, 
and  between  these  and  the  walls,  rafters,  oiled  well,  and 
giving  a  pleasing  contrast  to  the  white  ceiling  between 
the  rafters. 

The  room  on  the  left  in  front  is  full  of  furniture 
belonging  to  Mr.  Noyes,  the  former  occupant ;  back  of 
it  is  our  Friends'  Room,  as  it  is  called  here.     Dr.  Ar- 


288  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

Hold's  picture  adorns  one  corner.  Back  of  the  hall, 
and  of  the  same  size,  as  I  said,  is  the  dining-room. 
The  legs  of  our  sideboard  stand  in  brass  cups  of  water, 
to  be  proof  against  ants.  No  article  of  furniture  nor 
common  box  can  stand  on  its  own  bottom  here.  No, 
not  a  tub,  for  the  white  ants  are  sure  to  eat  up  every- 
thino-  not  on  stilts.  From  the  dining-room  turn  to  the 
right,  and  you  are  in  our  bedroom,  corresponding  to 
the  Friends^  Room.  From  the  window  we  have  a  fine 
view  of  the  hills.  Between  the  pillars  opposite,  on  the 
veranda,  hang  two  tatties  or  sweet-grass  shades  to  keep 
off  the  heat  and  glare  of  the  sun.  They  can  be  rolled 
up.  A  bathing-room  connects  with  this  room,  in  the 
rear.  Now  come  into  my  study  which  is  in  front,  on 
the  right  of  the  hall,  corresponding  to  Mr.  Noyes's 
room  on  the  left.  Like  the  other  three  rooms  it  is 
eighteen  feet  square,  the  floor  covered  with  common 
straw  mat,  the  ceiling  like  that  of  the  hall.  My  great 
study-table  is  in  the  middle,  and  maps  and  pictures 
hang  on  the  walls.     My  bookcases  are  in  here  and  in 

the  hall 

Done  with  the  inside,  pass  to  the  back  veranda,  which 
is  smaller.  On  the  left  is  the  munshi's  (teacher's) 
room,  where  the  tracts  are  kept,  and  physic  and  tools. 
Opposite  is  Savarimuttu's  go-down  or  store-room,  where 
the  "  goodies "  are,  and  on  this  or  on  the  front  ve- 
randa sits  the  tailor  on  his  mat,  plying  his  needle  and 
gossiping  as  he  can  well  do.  From  the  house  on  the 
left  stretches  a  long  row  of  out-houses.  First  the  go- 
down  where  all  heavy  articles,  flour,  horse-food,  boxes, 
etc.,  are  kept ;  then  the  kitchen,  in  front  of  which  is  a 
covered  place  for  bandies  of  persons  on  the  hills.  Be- 
yond is  the  chicken-house,  and  above  that  a  dove-cote 


DAVID  COIT   SCUDDER.  289 

for  one  liundred  pigeons.  Beyond  that,  at  the  end  is 
a  small  calf-pen.  On  the  back  side  are  four  stalls  for 
horses  and  carriages,  all  whitewashed  and  shaded  by  a 
panddl,  as  we  call  it.  The  church  in  the  compound 
is  bare  and  plain  enough,  —  plain  inside  too  ;  a  little 
raised  platform,  like  the  rest,  of  mortar,  at  the  end, 
and  a  movable  stand  for  pulpit,  a  Gothic  window 
behind. 

If  you  pass  through  the  house  on  to  the  small  back 
veranda,  you  will  be  tempted  to  go  on  top  by  the  stair- 
way on  the  left.  Everything  is  whitewashed,  so  don't 
rub  your  garments.  But  I  can't  attempt  to  describe 
the  view  from  the  roof.  You  could  walk  about  and 
gaze  for  a  long  time  without  wearying.  Face  the  gate^ 
northward.  You  appear  to  be  in  the  centre  of  a  vast 
amphitheatre  of  hills  that  tower  nearly  eight  thousand 
feet  upward,  right  before  you.  You  are  four  miles 
from  their  base.  They  hardly  form  half  a  circle,  and 
terminate  abruptly  to  your  vision  on  either  side:  on 
the  left  truly ;  on  the  right  they  still  reach  on  toward 
the  east,  but  the  line  is  broken  for  you  by  a  mountain 
nearer,  a  little  to  the  right  and  of  very  peculiar  shape, 
a  sharp  ridge  running  from  base  to  apex,  its  edge  to- 
ward you.  The  next  most  prominent  feature  is  the 
road,  a  quarter  of  a  mile  distant,  running  at  right  an- 
gles with  the  path  to  the  house,  and  lined  all  along  on 
each  side  by  big,  ungainly,  but  thickly  leaved  banian- 
trees,  full  of  monkeys.  Between  the  road  and  the 
mountain  are  green  rice-fields,  with  a  few  small  streams, 
and  banians,  cork  and  thorn  trees,  and  bamboo  clumps 
scattered  about.  To  the  left,  just  outside  the  north- 
west corner  of  the  compound,  is  a  beautiful  grove  of 
tall,  graceful  cocoa-nuts,  with  dozens  of  pendent  birds'- 

19 


290  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

nests  hanging  from  their  high  limbs,  while  over  and 
beyond  them  you  look  into  the  bosom  of  the  hills, 
where  they  sweep  around  toward  the  south.  South- 
ward, the  view  is  less  limited,  the  hills  being  miles 
away,  but  it  is  much  less  interesting.  You  can  see  a 
large  tank  or  two,  and  one  or  two  low,  gravelly  hills, 
covered  with  scraggly  cactus-bushes,  not  far  off,  —  a 
noticeable  feature  in  an  Indian  landscape,  where  low, 
small  hills,  not  mountains,  are  rarely  seen.  You,  with 
home  notions  of  Oriental  vegetation,  would  be  disap- 
pointed in  the  general  bleakness  and  barrenness  of  the 
view.  Certainly,  almost  any  spot  that  I  have  seen  at 
home  would  excel  in  beauty  a  landscape  in  this  coun- 
try. Everything  is  dry.  Trees  are  not  specially  beau- 
tiful, and  of  far  less  variety  than  is  met  with  at  home. 
The  trees  on  the  road  to  our  house  are  tulip-trees,  a 
kind  that  neither  of  us  like,  coarse,  clumsy,  and  litter- 
ing the  ground  forever  with  falling  leaves. 

[to    MRS.  CHARLES    W.  SCUDDER.] 

Periakulam,  March  19,  1862. 
A  splendid  bouquet  of  hill  -  flowers,  just  sent  us,  is 
breathing  out  fragrance  singularly  suggestive  of  home. 
Roses,  geraniums,  heliotropes,  and  verbenas  are  not 
every-day  sights  to  mortals  here  below  [on  the  plains]. 
Well,  what  has  this  to  do  with  writing  to  me  ?  you  will 
ask.  Simpl}^,  that  somehow  flowers  suggest  you,  and 
your  letter  comes  to  mind,  which  has  but  lately  arrived, 

fresh  from   Linden   Place I  wish  it  were  as 

easy  for  me  to  give  you  a  picture  of  our  house  and 
room  as  for  me  to  keep  yours  in  mind.  H.  and  I  are 
sitting  in  my  study,  writing  at  my  big  study-table,  as 
we  do  every  evening.     Doors  and  windows  are  open. 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  291 

and  we  manage  to  feel  comfortable,  at  least  I  do,  witli 
the  thermometer  at  86°.  Is  that  warm  at  home?  I 
have  forgotten.  You  would  find  little  to  attract  you 
in  our  surroundings,  certainly  nothing  which  could 
steal  your  affection  from  the  Nature  with  which  you  have 
Leen  familiar.  These  great  hills  would  be  grand  any- 
wliere,  but  they  have  nothing  of  the  summer  dress  of 
New  England  hills,  nor  the  gorgeousness  of  autumn. 
They  look  brown  and  bald,  though  forests  cover  them 
through  Avhich  wild  beasts  roam  unmolested.  Indian 
trees  do  not  compare  with  home  trees  for  beauty  of 
outline,  grace  of  limb,  or  richness  of  verdure.  The 
banian  is  a  great,  awkward,  ungainly,  unsightly  pro- 
duction. It  is  a  monster,  though  not  the  monster  of 
books.  There  are  not  over  a  dozen  such  trees  as  figure 
in  pictures,  in  all  Southern  India,  I  dare  say.  The 
banians  are  very  common,  almost  CA^ery  public  road  is 
lined  with  them,  and  they  throw  out  their  long,  un- 
sightly arms  in  every  direction.  They  take  special 
delight  in  shooting  forth  branches  but  a  little  above 
the  ground,  and  almost  perfectly  horizontal  branches 
that  are  as  big  at  one  end  as  at  the  other  and  reach 
out  an  amazing  distance.  They  ought  to  be  propped  up 
by  the  shoots  ;  but  these  shoots  rarely  reach  the  ground, 
except  close  to  the  trunk,  being  nibbled  off  by  cattle. 
The  banians  are  famous  resorts  for  monkeys. 

Cork-trees  are  rather  graceful  and  have  a  pretty 
blossom,  like  the  cypress-vine,  hanging  from  a  long 
stem.  Tulip-trees  are  ugly,  coarse,  and  litter  the  ground 
with  leaves.  Thorn-trees  are  as  unshapely,  usually, 
as  they  ought  to  be ;  but  there  is  one  kind  of  thorn 
called  the  umbrella-tree,  which  has  an  astonishing  like- 
ness to  that  domestic  article,  and  is  so  very  peculiar  in 


292  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

shape  as  to  form  a  desirable  addition  to  your  garden. 
Fruit-trees  are  not  as  pretty  either,  I  think,  as  home 
ones,  but  I  fear  I  am  partial,  and  certainly  I  am  en- 
croaching on  ground  that  I  don't  naturally  own.  But 
what  strikes  one  most  forcibly  is  the  bleakness  of  the 
ground.  Except  in  the  rainy  season,  when  the  rice  is 
exceedingly  beautiful,  —  the  richest  green  I  ever  saw,  — 
all  fields  are  bleak,  and  barren  of  everything  save  stub- 
ble. You  rarely  see  a  watercourse ;  we  are  favored 
in  being  near  mountains.  Tanks  are  usually  half  dry, 
showing  the  mud,  and  interesting  only  as  the  resort  of 
flocks  of  aquatic  birds.  Save  too  occasionally  a  moun- 
tain, all  is  a  dead  level ;  there  is  hardly  such  a  thing  as 
a  hill  anywhere,  where  I  have  been.  This  of  course  is 
favorable  for  irrigation,  but  certainly  not  for  beauty. 

But  we  did  not  come  here  attracted  by  any  stories 
of  the  beauties  of  tropical  scenery,  or  the  luxuriance 
of  vegetation,  of  which  we  heard.  We  are  less  inter- 
ested in  the  land  than  the  people  who  inhabit  it.  And 
if  I  should  write  of  the  natural  attractiveness  of  the 
inhabitants,  I  fear  I  could  not  give  a  very  glowing  ac- 
count. Heber  said,  '-'•Only  man  is  vile."  I  should 
put  a  question  mark  after  only^  —  but  I  am  not  anxious 
to  destroy  his  poetry  nor  rudely  break  in  upon  current 
notions.  Certainly  the  rest  is  true  ;  man  is  vile,  how 
vile  I  am  confident  that  even  you,  with  all  your  ac- 
quaintance with  Brookline  Creek,  can  have  but  the 
very  faintest  conception.  Not  vile  only  but  low,  won- 
derfully low.  My  heart  sinks  within  me  as  I  look  upon 
some  of  these  people,  and  the  best  comfort  I  find  is  in 
the  thought  that  God  created  them.  Even  this,  as  W. 
said  to  me,  one  might  almost  be  led  to  doubt,  and  take 
up  with  Topsy's  theology.      However,  they  are  and 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  293 

iiave  been  reclaimed.  You  would  be  interested  in  the 
work,  I  know,  and  I  must  not  fail  to  tell  you  that  I 
love  this  people  very  much.     I  like  their  affectionate, 

dependent  ways It  does  encourage  me  to  think 

how  many  love  me  and  pray  for  me  at  home. 

[to  his  sister.] 

Periakulam,  March  24,  1862. 
....  It  does  come  upon  me  so  once  in  a  while,  the 
thought  that  home  is  slipping  slowly  out  of  grasp !  It 
is  very  oppressing  to  feel  the  impressions  of  home  be- 
coming gradually  more  indistinct,  the  shades  of  home- 
life,  that  render  the  whole  picture  so  pleasing,  growing 
more  shadowy,  till  the  merest  outline  is  lost ;  the  con- 
sciousness that  all  this  is  actually  passing  out  of  my 
hold  and  that  there  is  no  hope  for  it  is  really  painful. 
I  find  myself  already  straining  my  memory  to  recal  the 
appearance  of  certain  parts  of  the  house,  and  it  makes 
me  feel  badly.  I  ride  out  on  horseback  every  morning, 
and  home  rarely  escapes  coming  up  for  a  theme  of 
thought. 

[journal  letter.] 

March  20. 
I  go  to  Andipatti  to-morrow  morning  early.  This 
IS  my  first  tour  by  myself;  perhaps  you  would  be  inter- 
ested in  the  disposal  of  things.  I  have  had  no  touring- 
box  made  yet,  so  this  time  I  make  use  of  an  old  cam- 
phor trunk.  Into  this  go  the  canisters  for  tea  and 
sugar;  a  butter-pot,  its  top  secured  by  a  cloth  and 
string;  plates,  napkin,  pepper  and  salt-box  are  stowed 
snugly  away.  In  a  tin  case  are  two  loaves  of  bread ; 
a   tin  washbowl,  rice   and   curry  dishes,  lamp,  sweet 


294  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

potatoes,  plantains,  and  a  roast  chicken  all  find  accom- 
modation in  some  corner  of  this  odorous  trunk.  Pots 
and  kettles  go  into  a  separate  basket.  When  the  bandy 
has  come  I  shall  see  that  there  is  plenty  of  straw  on 
which  to  lay  the  mattress.  To  the  inside  somewhere 
I  must  tie  my  touring-cot,  and  place  inside  also  my 
camp-chair  and  table,  and  after  all,  myself. 

March  27. 

....  I  was  only  away  on  my  tour  a  single  day,  as 
I  had  a  sore  throat  and  headache,  and  there  was  trouble 
in  the  household.     Our  good-natured  horse-keeper  had 

met  with  an  accident I  set  my  "  ticker,"  that 

invaluable  companion,  to  wake  me  up  at  half-past  four 
in  the  morning.  It  was  faithful,  and  by  five  I  was  off 
in  the  bandy  with  a  good  moonlight,  and  dawn  soon 
breaking.  The  distance  to  Andipatti  is  eleven  miles, 
and  the  bandy-man,  whom  you  must  know  as  Anikatti, 
or  "  Young  Elephant,"  managed  to  reach  Andipatti  by 
9.30,  four  hours  and  a  half  travel.  Vetham  the  cook, 
Savarimuttu's  father,  was  on  hand ;  but  when  we  came 
to  open  the  camphor  trunk,  the  brass  key  broke.  That 
was  a  pretty  pickle  to  be  in,  for  I  wanted  breakfast, 
and  there  was  the  chicken,  the  plates,  and  everything 
else  nicely  locked  up.  However  we  sent  for  a  black- 
smith and  I  managed  to  pry  the  cover  up.  The  natives 
were  coming  in  to  pay  their  respects,  but  when  the 
table  was  ready  they  disappeared,  as  they  do  not  con- 
sider it  polite  to  look  at  another  eating. 

In  a  few  minutes  after  breakfast  and  before  I  was 
ready  for  them,  the  bridal  party,  of  which  I  had  been 
told,  appeared.  I  had  made  but  little  preparation,  but 
put  a  bold  face  on  and  proceeded  to  business.     The 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  295 

little  church  was  full  of  spectators,  partly  heathen  partly 
Christian.  The  bride's  mother  sat  next  to  her,  seeing 
that  her  cloth  was  kept  perfectly  arranged,  and  espe- 
cially so  that  no  part  of  her  face  should  be  visible.  She 
sat  the  very  impersonation  of  modesty,  giving  no  one  a 
chance  to  pronounce  on  her  beauty,  though  a  glimpse 
that  I  caught  of  her  face  made  me  think  that  fancy 
would  pronounce  better  judgment  than  actual  sight. 
She  opened  her  cloth  while  the  ceremony  was  perform- 
ing. The  most  noticeable  feature  of  her  countenance 
was  a  deep  blood-red  dash  of  dye  along  each  cheek- 
bone, making  her  look  as  though  her  throat  were  cut. 
I  can't  tell  you  how  her  hair  was  dressed,  as  it  was 
never  visible,  —  a  fortunate  thing  for  me.  The  groom 
had  no  modesty  to  boast  of,  but  sat  with  a  big  wreath 
of  white  flowers  round  his  neck  and  a  cloth  thrown 
over  his  shoulders  loosely.  The  company  were  all  be- 
hind, an  arrangement  which  I  commend  to  bashful 
young  men  and  women  at  home.  We  have  a  marriage 
formula  here,  not  uniform,  but  each  missionary  adapts 
what  appears  to  himself  suitable.  The  native  style  of 
wedding  is  by  what  is  called  a  Tali.  It  is  a  small  or- 
nament hung  by  a  cord  around  the  woman's  neck,  tied 
there  by  the  husband.  I  believe  it  is  never  taken  off. 
The  man  ties  it  at  the  time.  We  have  lately  adopted 
the  open  Bible  as  a  suitable  emblem  for  our  Christians. 
I  read  Ephesians  on  marriage  to  them,  married  them, 
prayed  a  very  short  prayer,  and  pronounced  the  bene- 
diction. A  hymn  followed  to  the  tune  of  "  Old  Hun- 
dred." Then  the  father  of  the  bride  brought  forward 
the  fee,  —  for  bride  and  groom  each,  three  annas  and 
four  pice,  —  ten  cents.  Which  twenty  cents  I  duly  de- 
posited in  H.'s  keeping  as  her  first  pin-money.     After 


296  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

the  hymn  I  wished  them  both  joy  and  supposed  we  were 
well  through.  But  no :  the  catechist  asked  me  to  talk 
to  them.  I  declined,  and  he  receiving  permission, 
preached  to  them  nearly  half  an  hour,  on  various 
topics  more  or  less  relevant  to  the  matter  in  hand. 
Then  another  hymn  and  prayer,  and  another  benedic- 
tion by  the  catechist,  a  layman,  in  which  the  whole 
company  joined,  as  is  the  custom  here.  The  crowd 
then  left,  after  the  groom  had  received  a  copy  of  the 
New  Testament  from  me,  as  he  could  read.  I  suppose 
the  groom  was  in  clover,  but  I  was  rather  surprised  to 
see  him  come  to  the  church  before  meeting,  seeming  to 
have  nothing  special  to  do,  and  again  in  the  evening  to 
find  him  at  the  catechist's  house,  calling.  Not  a  very 
faithful  spouse. 

We  had  a  meeting  in  the  afternoon,  in  which  I  talked 
in  a  familiar  way  to  the  church-members,  urging  them 
to  learn  to  read.  A  man  has  just  moved  in  with  his 
old  mother  from  a  place  in  Mr.  Herrick's  field,  and  he 
came  asking:  to  be  received  to  communion.  Such  re- 
quests  are  rare  and  I  was  glad  to  hear  it.  The  old 
woman  also  wished  the  same.  I  shall  write  to  Mr. 
Herrick  about  them,  and  examine  them  the  next  time 
I  visit  Andipatti. 

I  decided  to  visit  the  church  at  a  place  two  miles 
south  called  Maniakarampatti.  Patti  is  a  common  ter- 
mination, meaning  village.  Here  is  my  largest  congre- 
gation, numbering  one  hundred  and  five.  I  expected 
to  hold  a  meeting,  but  the  first  news  that  greeted  me 
on  reaching  the  church  was  that  my  people  were  in 
great  tribulation.  There  is  a  good  deal  of  young  grain 
growing  now,  and  while  young  it  is  almost  sure  death 
to  cattle  who  eat  it.     They  die,  the  natives  say,  from  a 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  297 

little  insect  that  is  in  the  grain,  which  chokes  them. 
How  true  the  explanation  is  I  cannot  say,  but  that  day 
five  or  six  cows  had  strayed  into  a  field,  eaten  and  died. 
Our  people  are  poor  enough,  and  they  can  ill  afford  to 
lose  them.     The  cows  were  all  together,  and  the  people 
with  them,  so  I  went  to  see  them.     It  was  a  doleful 
sight  indeed.     Five  nice-looking  cows  lay  stretched  out 
dead,  and   the  women  were    sitting    around  them,  or 
walking  about,  uttering  most  pitiful  lamentations  over 
their  loss.     One  cow  was  just  dying,  and  a  crowd  was 
standing  round  it  mourning  every  fresh  indication  of 
coming  death.     I  could  say  but  little  and  do  less.     They 
had  poured  water  down  with  no  avail,  and  asked  me  if 
I  had  not  some  medicine.     I  got  my  catechist,  or  teacher, 
who  was  with  me  to  tell   the  people,  many  of  whom 
were  heathen,  of  Job,  how  he  suffered,  and  how  he 
bore  it.      They  appeared  somewhat  interested  in  the 
tale.     But  it  was   really  a  mournful   sight  to  see  the 
affection  manifested  toward  the  animals.     "  They  were 
Christian   cows,"  they  said.     I  left  them    finally  and 
walked  back  toward  Andipatti.     A  few  accompanied 
me  on  the  way,  some  distance,  till  I  gave  them  leave  to 
return. 

I  was  pleased  to  witness  the  anxiety  m^Ifested  to 
have  the  Lord's  Supper  administered  there,  which  they 
had  not  had,  they  said,  for  a  long  time.  Walking 
home  by  starlight  I  had  ample  time  to  meditate  on  the 
work  before  me,  its  extent  and  its  character.  I  felt  a 
quiet  exultation  at  the  thought  of  having  so  much  to 
do,  and  I  longed  to  be  able  to  speak  readily,  that  I 
might  carry  out  a  plan  of  touring  among  heathen  vil- 
lages that  I  have  been  concocting.  Reaching  the 
church  I  had  tea,  and  then  walking  over  to  the  cate- 


298  LIFE  AND  LETTERS   OF 

cliist's  house,  I  brought  him  back  with  me,  and  we  two 
spent  a  pleasant  hour,  in  talking  and  praying  together 
about  our  work,  and  the  Lord's  work  around  Andi- 
patti.  It  was  the  pleasantest  hour  I  had  yet  passed  in 
India.  Do  you  remember  my  describing  a  singular- 
looking  man  as  having  presented  himself  to  Mr.  Noyes 
and  me,  when  we  were  there  before  ?  Kurubatham 
had  not  seen  him  for  some  time,  as  the  man  had  been 
south,  but  he  came  to  see  me  and  said  he  had  been 
sick.  He  was  really  very  earnest  and  seemed  sincere, 
and  I  am  quite  interested  in  him.  I  made  too  strong  a 
cup  of  tea  for  my  benefit,  slept  but  little,  rose  at  half- 
past  two,  got  the  bandy,  started  off  and  came  in  upon 
H.  much  to  her  relief  about  seven.  We  soon  after 
sent  the  horse-keeper  off  in  the  same  bandy  to  Madura. 
....  It  is  thundering  above,  —  an  unusual  but 
very  welcome  sound  in  these  parts.  A  cool  breeze 
blows  upon  me,  refreshing  after  the  hot  day.  I  did  not 
test  it,  but  I  am  safe  in  saying  that  the  thermometer 
has  been  over  100°  a  good  part  of  the  day.  Hot 
weather  is  rushing  upon  us  like  fire  on  a  prairie,  and 
we  shall  soon  hear  tlie  roar  and  feel  the  blast.  We 
have  decided  to  go  to  the  Hills  if  possible  in  two  weeks, 
and  then  what  a  jovial  time  we  shall  have.  Were  it 
not  for  H.  I  hardly  think  I  should  go  myself,  as  I  am 
able  to  endure  ;  still  to-day  I  have  had  a  dull,  head- 
achy feeling,  rather  disagreeable,  though  I  am  in 
decent  condition  otherwise.  The  whole  mission  is  on 
the  move,  making  its  annual  pilgrimage  to  the  Hills. 
The  Tracys'  goods,  cows,  sheep,  and  hens  came  to-day. 
When  a  family  takes  a  vacation  here,  the  whole  con- 
cern has  to  move.  They  go  up  on  Tuesday  morn- 
ing.    Wednesday  the  Burnells  spend  with  us,  going  up 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  299 

Thursday  morning.  Friday  morning  Miss  Ashley  as- 
cends. Then  the  Hunts  are  also  coming  this  year  for 
the  first  time.  They  will  be  here  in  a  week  ;  so  that 
if  we  are  fifty  miles  from  Madura  we  shall  see  plenty 
of  visitors  for  a  while. 

March  28. 

We  had  a  tornado  at  noon  to-day.  Thunder  roared 
among  the  hills,  the  dust  flew  up  in  spouts,  the  rain 
descended,  and  the  floods  came.  It  was  deliciously 
refreshing.  We  had  been  resting,  with  the  thermome- 
ter at  98°,  a  cloudy  day  too,  when  of  a  sudden  the 
breezes  came,  and  the  mercury  ran  into  its  bulb,  stop- 
ping at  76°,  a  very  remarkable  fall  for  this  country. 
H.  was  in  ecstasies,  ran  to  the  door,  drank  in  the  cool 
air  by  the  throatful,  and  we  had  doors  open  and  en- 
joyed ourselves  mightily,  for  the  hour  or  more  that  the 
storm  lasted.  The  wind  cut  up  all  sorts  of  antics, 
whipping  our  grass  lattice  into  shreds.  The  rain,  too, 
was  by  no  means  unwelcome,  laying  dust  and  coloring 
the  leaves.  This  evenino;  H.  and  I  took  our  first  walk 
out.  Pony  had  gone  to  be  shod,  gone  to  Dindigal 
—  thirty-six  miles  off" — just  to  get  a  set  of  new  shoes  ! 
We  went  to  Lotus-tank  back  of  the  house,  the  garden- 
ers carrying  H.  over  the  river  in  a  chair. 

....  I  am  about  starting  a  school  in  Seymour's 
church,  where  there  has  been  none  for  some  time. 
Seymour  came  yesterday  and  said  that  a  Roman 
Catholic,  who  had  been  a  sort  of  catechist,  wished  to 
join  our  congregation,  and  suggested  him  for  a  teacher, 
at  one  dollar  and  a  half  a  month  !  I  told  him  to  bring 
him  here  to-day.  He  came,  and  I  thought  I  would 
examine  him  a  little ;  so  I  asked  him  to  read.  He 
read  passably  well ;  then  I  took  up  geography.     To  be 


300  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

safe,  I  started  with  fundamentals,  and  asked  the  shape 
of  the  earth.  His  reply  was,  "  I  have  not  read  the 
Gospels."  A  hopeful  case  for  a  teacher,  is  he  not? 
However,  I  think  I  shall  try  him  at  least,  keeping  him 
a  little  ahead  of  his  classes.  He  is  a  clever  fellow,  and 
will  get  pupils,  they  say. 

April  5. 

We  have  had  a  busy  week  of  it.  Saturday  eve,  a 
week  ago,  the  Tracys  came  in  upon  us,  on  their  way  to 
the  Hills.  They  stayed  until  Tuesday,  leaving  at  two 
in  the  morning.  Tuesday  evening  the  Burnells  and 
Miss  Ashley  came,  leaving  Thursday  morning  at  the 
same  hour.  Thursday  the  Hunts  came,  and  left  this 
morning  at  two.  Quite  a  run  of  company  for  us,  fifty 
miles  from  the  metropolis.  While  the  Burnells  were 
here,  we  had  the  nicest  time ;  for  as  we  were  all  seated 
at  the  dinner-table,  in  walked  our  tap^l-man,  box  on 
head,  and  immediately  delivered  himself  of  what  had 
been  on  his  mind  a  long  time,  foreign  letters.  Hurrah, 
what  a  jumping  and  running  !  I  got  the  letter-basket 
and  dealt  out.  The  Burnells  had  a  few.  Miss  Ashley 
some,  and  I  eleven  letters  !  Such  an  astounding  batch, 
perfectly  overwhelming.  I  did  n't  get  through  reading 
them  that  night,  but  kept  J.'s  for  morning.  Such  let- 
ters too !  I  read  aloud  to  H.  till  I  was  hoarse,  and  we 
shouted  and  laughed,  till  the  other  folks  began  to  grow 
jealous.  We  were  all  in  capital  humor,  for  only  the 
day  before  we  had  received  the  telegram  telling  us  of 
the  capture  of  Forts  Henry  and  Donelson,  and  the 
retreat  of  the  Rebels  from  Bowling-Green  and  Nashville. 

April  7. 
Yesterday   the   church  -  members   from   the   village 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  301 

came  up  to  our  church  here,  and  we  partook  of  the 
Lord's  Supper  together.  It  was  my  first  service,  and  I 
enjoyed  it,  though  embarrassed  by  the  language.  The 
little  clmrch  was  about  full  of  people.  A  poor-looking 
congregation,  you  would  have  thought,  could  you  have 
seen  it,  and  so  in  truth  it  w^as ;  but  I  hope  that  some 
of  those  present  were  true  believers.  Before  service, 
Seymour  said  to  me  that  there  were  three  persons  who 
had  been  suspended  from  coming  to  communion  for 
about  a  year,  on  account  of  their  having  been  foremost 
in  the  quarrel  which  divided  the  church,  who  wished  to 
be  received  back,  acknowledging  their  fault,  and  desir- 
ing to  be  at  peace  again  with  the  others.  The  question 
of  receiving  them  was  put  on  the  spot,  and  they  came 
once  more  as  Christians  to  the  table  of  the  Lord.  I 
looked  upon  it  as  an  omen  of  good,  an  indication  of  the 
return  of  better  feeling.  Nothing  but  the  existence 
of  this  estrangement  between  members  of  the  church 
prevents  its  growth.  After  service,  the  women  came 
forward  to  salaam  H.,  whom  they  had  not  seen  before, 
and  followed  us  then  to  the  house,  some  of  them  ask- 
ing for  medicine  for  themselves  and  babies. 

To-day,  at  eleven  o'clock,  I  had  a  little  prayer-meet- 
ing with  Seymour,  Manuel,  my  station  catechist,  and 
Breckenridge,  munshi.  I  propose  to  hold  these  meet- 
ings monthly,  when  we  shall  study  together  some  por- 
tion of  the  Scripture,  beginning  with  First  Thessalo- 
nians,  and  talk  about  matters  of  interest  here.  It  will 
be  a  good  thing  to  inspirit  the  pastor,  who  has  been 
somewhat  disheartened  by  the  state  of  things.  I  pro- 
posed to-day,  too,  to  start  monthly,  or  perhaps  bi- 
monthly, concerts  of  prayer  for  missions.  There  are 
none  in  the  station  now\     So  I  shall  have  Breckenridge 


302  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

study  up  a  set  topic,  and  tell  what  he  knows  at  the 
catechists'  meetings,  and  they  will  rehearse  this  to  their 
several  congregations.  Moreover,  I  mean  to  have  the 
pastor  and  others  write  letters  to  some  mission,  in  hope 
of  receiving  replies  from  native  Christians  abroad. 

[Here  closes  the  journal  before  the  vacation  on  the 
Pulney  Hills.  They  had  remained  on  the  Plains  until 
late  in  the  season,  and  the  letters  written  at  this  time 
showed  evident  signs  of  exhaustion  from  the  prostrating 
heat.  But  shortly  after  this  last  date,  they  followed 
the  other  missionaries  who  had  severally  halted  at 
Periakulam  before  ascending  the  mountain,  and  joined 
them  on  the  summit.] 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  303 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

ON   THE  PULNEY  HILLS. 
[16  April-14  June,  1862.] 

[It  is  a  happy  society  that  collects  during  the  summer 
months  at  the  health-retreat  of  the  mission  upon  the 
Pulneys.  All  care  is  cast  aside,  and  for  a  few  weeks 
India  heat  and  enervation  are  forgotten  in  the  enjoyment 
of  a  northern  climate.  There  are  not  enouo-h  houses  in 
the  settlement  for  all  the  mission  at  once,  so  that  an 
arrangement  is  made  by  which  the  families  spend  the 
former  or  latter  half  of  the  hot  season  upon  the  Hills, 
alternating  with  each  other.  The  society  which  can 
be  had  only  rarely  below  is  here  thoroughly  enjoyed, 
and  the  coolness  of  the  air  permits  a  kind  of  life  which 
had  been  wholly  laid  aside  since  leaving  America.  Be- 
side the  mission  families,  English  officers,  civil  or  army, 
also  resort  to  the  health-retreat,  so  that  quite  a  little 
colony  is  maintained.  How  pleasant  this  change  was 
will  be  learned  from  the  animated  account  which  David 
gives  of  the  ascent  and  sojourn.  His  letters  will  indi- 
cate also  how  a  period  of  cessation  from  work  gave  an 
opportunity  for  more  reflection,  which  was  attended  by 
something  of  his  old  self-reproachful  moods.] 

[journal  letter.] 
KoDi  Kanal,  Pulney  Hills,  April  18,  1862. 
"  Praise  the  Mount ;  I  'm  fixed  upon  it !  "  has  been 
not  irreverently  running   in  my  head  ever  since  we 


304  LIFE  AND  LETTERS   OF 

crossed  the  brow  of  Nebo.  Yes,  we  are  actually  up 
on  the  Hills.  Like  the  brave  captain  who  stood  by  his 
ship  till  he  saw  all  safe  out  of  her,  and  then  put  himself 
into  the  boat,  we  have  seen  everybody  else  safe  off  the 
burning  plains,  and  have  now  left  ourselves.  The 
clouds  are  sweeping  up  over  the  hills,  and  big  birds  are 
sweeping  by  our  window,  as  we  sit  in  our  cottage.  I 
am  too  full  of  business  and  feeling  to  write  coherently, 
I  fear,  but  this  incorrigible  mail-day  is  hard  by,  and  I 
must  not  let  one  mail  pass  without  writing. 

But  what  a  spot  this  is  !  Night  before  last  we  could 
hardly  breathe,  it  was  so  stifling  and  hot ;  last  night  I 
could  with  difficulty  breathe,  the  air  was  so  rare.  We 
have  left  our  spacious  mansion  below,  sweltering  under 
a  temperature  of  100°,  and  to-day  sit  in  our  snuggery, 
with  a  fire  in  the  air-tight  stove.  Night  before  last  the 
thinnest  sheet  was  oppressive  ;  last  night  we  were  com- 
fortable with  two  thick  blankets Mr.  Hunt  and 

I  went  out  this  morning  to  watch  for  Mr.  Yorke.  We 
missed  him,  but  planting  the  Stars  and  Stripes  on  the 
high  peak  overlooking  the  plains  and  my  house  away 
below,  we  amused  ourselves  with  plunging  rocks  over 
a  big  precipice,  and  seeing  them  go  crashing,  tearing 
down  for  a  mile  or  more.  This  afternoon  we  went  into 
the  woods,  plucked  violets,  Solomon's  seal,  eat  rasp- 
berries, sat  and  chatted,  cut  grass  for  the  horse,  and  did 
everything  that  you  at  home  do  in  the  country,  but  that 
dwellers  on  the  plain  can't  do.  I  raced  after  the  boys, 
seized  our  United  States  flag,  shouted  out  "  Long  may 
it  wave ! "  when  our  anti-North  English  doctor  was 
near,  waved  it  at  the  English  collector,  as  he  came  up 
the  hills  just  from  Madura,  and  did  other  uncouth  things 
that  I  am  capable  of  doing  up  here  —  not  down  there. 


DAVID   COIT   SCUDDER.  305 

But  I  suppose  I  must  give  you  for  once  an  orderly 
account  of  how  we  got  up  to  this  height  of  joy.  We 
finished  packing  on  Wednesday  ;  we  had  crockery  to 
pack,  books,  of  course,  mattresses,  etc.  Then  our  mat- 
ting must  be  rolled  up  and  put  out  of  reach  of  white 
ants ;  picture-backs  daubed  with  solution  of  corrosive 
sublimate,  to  keep  off  book-worms  ;  loose  articles  put 
away.  All  the  packages  had  to  be  weighed.  Fifty 
pounds  is  a  Coolie  load ;  if  a  box  weighs  over  that  the 
contents  must  be  reduced.  All  was  done  by  nine 
o'clock,  and  we  lay  down  on  the  mattress  after  setting 
the  invaluable  "  ticker  "  at  two  o'clock.  I  had  a  rest- 
less nap,  dreaming  of  Coolies  and  boxes  and  hills  until 
"  rattle,  rattle!  "  went  the  ticker,  and  we  were  on  our 
feet  in  a  jiffy.  I  went  out  and  roused  the  Coolie  master, 
and  sent  for  Savarimuttu.  Dressing  for  the  trip  was  a 
queer  thing.  There  were  we  sweltering,  thermometer 
at  90°,  and  I  proceeded  to  wrap  up  my  poor  body  in 
home  fall-clothing.  Boots  that  had  slept  eight  months 
were  hauled  out  and  pulled  on,  and  a  cloth  coat  must 
come  out  of  its  hiding-place.  Then  the  ayah  must  put 
on  more  clothing  than  ever  she  had  before.  Manuel, 
the  catechist,  was  on  hand  to  help  us  off.  The  CooHes, 
about  a  dozen,  and  mostly  women,  were  ready,  and, 
lifting  the  loads  on  to  each  others'  heads,  took  up  their 
march.  Three  pack-horses  jogged  off,  each  with  a 
double  load.  Then  our  bullock-bandy  was  brought  out 
and  bullocks  attached.  Baby  was  waked  up,  and  evi- 
dently was  amazed  at  the  stir.  Then  leaving  our  last 
orders  and  the  keys  with  Manuel,  the  ayah,  baby,  H., 
and  I  tumbled  into  the  bandy.  Miss  Julia  staring  with 
all  her  eyes.  The  Coolies  led  the  march,  then  followed 
the  bandy,  the  sweeper-woman's  little  boy  running  after 


306  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

with  a  big  bottle  in  his  hand,  then  the  sweeper,  and 
Savarimuttu  leading  his  dog. 

It  is  a  good  four  miles  to  the  tope  (grove)  at  the 
base  of  the  hills.  It  was  three  o'clock,  and  the  moon 
was  shining  brightly,  just  past  the  full.  The  road  was 
familiar,  but  the  drive  delightful.  We  passed  lots 
of  donkeys  loaded  with  produce,  bound  for  the  hills, 
and  reached  the  tope  about  half-past  four.  There 
the  dhooly  was  awaiting  us.  This  is  a  lull  contriv- 
ance, you  must  know.  It  is  a  small  palanquin,  very 
small,  with  a  cloth  covering  arched  over  the  box.  H. 
and  baby  were  soon  stowed  in,  and  my  tats  were  in 
readiness.  A  tat  is  a  native  pony,  about  as  large  as  a 
big  Shetland,  very  hardy,  used  mainly  as  a  pack-horse. 
To  go  up  the  hills  we  hire  two  for  fifty  cents.  The 
saddle  was  a  native  one,  a  cushion-like  thing,  and  for 
bridle  I  had  a  rope  tied  round  his  neck.  Armed  with 
my  cowhide,  I  mounted  and  sent  the  dhooly  on  ahead. 
All  the  rest  must  walk.  H.  had  four  bearers,  who 
started  off  on  a  grunt.  I  made  effort  to  keep  up  on  my 
beast,  but  did  not  learn  the  ways  at  first.  I  found  the 
only  way  to  spur  up  was  to  get  near  enough  to  the 
other  horse  that  always  kept  in  front,  to  slash  him. 
He  would  run  and  mine  would  follow.  Just  as  we 
started,  the  east  was  catching  its  first  tint  of  red  and 
the  birds  were  bemnnino;  their  songs.  A  few  rods  on, 
as  we  entered  the  gorge,  the  unwonted  sound  of  run- 
ning water  greeted  us.  The  dim  moonlight  cast  a 
sombreness  over  all  that  was  very  pleasing.  The  hills 
on  each  side  rose  rapidly,  and  in  front  a  great  moun- 
tain closed  the  ravine. 

As  day  broke,  the  outlines  of  the  hills  grew  more  dis- 
tinct, and  we  beo^an  to  see  flowers  on  the  trees  and 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  307 

shrubs  on  every  side.  By  seven  o'clock  we  had  reached 
the  first  stopping-place,  about  a  third  of  the  way  up. 
There  was  a  brook,  and  we  got  some  tolerably  good 
water.  The  Coolies  took  their  breakfast,  and  rested 
about  half  an  hour,  and  all  sorts  of  people.  Coolies, 
donkeys,  horses  gathered  about,  stopping,  too,  to  get  a 
peep  at  baby.  Just  beyond  we  met  our  cows  and  pony 
that  had  been  sent  on  the  day  previous.  The  horse- 
keeper  had  an  exciting  story  to  tell  about  a  tiger  that 
had  scared  pony  so  that  he  broke  loose.  The  fact  was, 
that  the  man  had  felt  rather  reluctant  to  spend  the 
night  on  the  road,  as  a  tiger  had  killed  some  cows  only 
a  day  or  two  ago.  They  saw  one,  and  were  of  course 
frightened,  but  so  was  his  highness.  There  is  one 
prowling  about  here  ;  an  Englishman  saw  him  a  week 
ago.  After  leaving  the  half-way  place,  the  road  leads 
right  up  the  face  of  the  mountain  that  has  been  facing 
you.  So  steep  is  the  hill  that  the  zigzags  seem  almost 
parallel  lines.  I  walked  a  good  deal  to  spare  pony, 
which  I  had  now  taken,  running  after  flowers  for  H.  ; 
getting  out  of  breath  in  cutting  across,  but  catching 
good  long  whiffs  of  the  delicious  air  that  now  and  then 
would  steal  over  us.  From  the  hill-side  we  could  look 
back  on  the  plains  beyond  the  gorge,  from  constantly 
higher  positions,  and  we  made  free  use  of  interjections. 
At  last  the  tiresome  zigzag  was  over,  we  shot  round 
the  shoulder  of  this  hill,  and  came  in  full  view  of  the 
range  on  which  the  houses  are.  Here  Mr.  Hunt's 
horse  came  in  sight.  He  had  sent  it  to  relieve  mine. 
Looking  up  way  above,  I  could  see  two  white-covered 
umbrellas,  and  the  horse-keeper  said  these  were  Mr. 
Burn  ell  and  Mr.  Taylor.  I  pushed  ahead,  and  in 
quarter  of  an  hour  I  came  up  with  them  in  a  beautiful 


308  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

grove.  Shaking  hands  over,  Mr  Bumell  gave  me  a 
cup  of  water  that  made  my  teeth  ache  from  the  cold. 
Then  Mr.  Taylor  coolly  handed  me  a  ripe  peach  !  Oh, 
what  a  sight,  what  a  taste !  H.  soon  came  up,  and  Mr. 
Taylor  had  another  for  her.  This  was  one  mile  from 
the  top,  and  the  hardest  pull  was  yet  to  come.  The 
Coolies  take  one  path  and  horses  another  ;  so  leaving 
H.,  I  pushed  ahead,  walking  and  riding  with  the  two 
gentlemen.  Half-way  up,  lots  of  boys  came  racing  to 
meet  us,  and  at  last  turning  a  corner,  we  came  in  sight 
first  of  the  little  church,  then  of  one  house  and  of  an- 
other, until  the  whole  collection  burst  upon  us,  nestling 
among  the  swelling  hills  that  stretch  away  to  the  west. 
On  top  of  the  hill  we  rounded  is  Mr.  Noyes's  house. 
Across  a  deep  valley  from  that  are  two  other  houses 
besides  this,  and  still  further  on,  hugging  a  forest,  are 
two  others  and  the  church. 

The  whole  top  of  this  range  is  formed  of  beautifully 
rounded  knolls,  with  valleys  between,  bare  of  trees 
save  now  and  then  a  clump,  but  clothed  with  grass. 
Their  smooth  slopes  form  a  most  pleasing  contrast  to 
the  sharp  ridges  of  the  peaks  seen  from  the  plain.  As 
we  came  to  Mr.  Noyes's  house,  we  were  met  by  another 
squad  of  still  younger  ones.  A  few  moments  after  I 
reached  the  top,  H.  appeared  by  another  road.  I  gal- 
loped across  the  valley  to  see  Mr  Hunt,  who  was  halloo- 
ing at  me,  and  H.  soon  followed.  The  first  good  breath 
of  cold  air  that  baby  caught  scared  her  so  that  she 
screeched  and  screamed  and  sobbed  most  fearfully. 
She  became  still  after  a  while,  but  it  took  a  day  fairly 
to  reconcile  her  to  her  new  home. 

Well,  we  are  fairly  here,  and  have  a  snug  jug  of  a 
house  to  ourselves.     It  is  a  little  place,   indeed,   this 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  309 

Rock  Cottage.  It  is  actually  on  a  big  flat  rock,  and 
under  a  hill  or  slope.  But  there  is  no  prospect  from  it, 
except  the  uninteresting  valley,  beyond  which  is  Mr. 
Noyes's  house.  We  are  writing  this  Saturday  evening 
in  our  parlor.  This  room,  as  indeed  the  bedroom 
next  it,  looks  like  a  big  omnibus.  The  roof  is  tiled, 
but  the  tiles  are  hidden  by  a  whitewashed  cloth, 
fastened  so  as  to  look  like  the  top  of  an  omnibus.  I 
can  touch  it  with  my  hand.  There  are  two  windows 
opposite  each  other,  one  three  feet  high,  the  other  two 
feet  and  a  half.  The  bedroom  joins  it  at  the  end,  and 
is  a  trifle  smaller,  with  one  window  a  foot  square.  At 
the  end  of  this  is  the  dining-room,  big  enough  to  hold  a 
table  and  chair  in  length,  and  a  little  less  wide.  So  we 
are  cribbed,  cabined,  and  confined ;  quite  a  descent 
from  our  palace  on  the  plains.  But  what  of  that  ? 
we  have  a  home  climate,  and  any  quarters  would  be 
acceptable.  Oh,  how  cold  the  water  is !  And  how  I 
have  tramped  to-day.  Out  at  six  this  morning  with 
H.,  Mrs.  Hunt,  and  Miss  A.  on  horses,  Mr.  Hunt,  Mr. 
Tracy,  and  the  boys  on  foot.  We  sent  the  ladies  home 
and  then  wandered  about,  rolling  rocks  down  preci- 
pices, and  gambolling  as  the  freak  took  us.  But  the 
best  of  it  was  that  we  saw  two  ibexes,  beautiful  creat- 
ures, bigger  than  goats,  skipping  along  on  a  slope  away 
below  us.     We  don't  see  them  every  day  here. 

Then  after  breakfast  I  went  to  get  some  wood. 
Each  one  has  to  go  into  the  woods,  find  a  dead  log,  sit 
on  it,  claim  it,  and  have  it  hauled  out.  When  out  in 
the  woods,  Mr.  Yorke  came  here  to  find  me.  Hearing 
of  it,  I  raced  back.  He  had  come  for  me  to  go  in 
bathing ;  so  we  roused  up  Mr.  Hunt  and  the  Tracys, 
then  took  in  Mr.  Burnell  and  Mr.  Taylor,  and  started 


310  LIFE  AND  LETTERS   OF 

off,  Mr.  Hunt  on  horseback.  It  was  about  eleven 
o'clock,  —  think  of  trudging  off  at  such  an  hour  in 
India,  almost  sure  death  below !  We  walked  and 
walked,  up  hill  and  down,  for  over  an  hour,  coming 
upon  a  beautiful  trout-like  stream,  and  following  it  up 
till  we  came  to  a  fine  waterfall  of  perhaps  forty  feet, 
at  the  base  of  which  lay  a  delicious  pool  of  most  invit- 
ing look.  Off  and  in,  but  whew,  how  cold  !  I  hardly 
ever  batlied  in  such  apparently  cold  water  at  home. 
We  swam  and  frolicked  like  boys,  as  boys  we  were, 
and  then  sunned  ourselves  and  started  back.  Mr. 
Yorke  and  I  lino-ered  behind  and  clambered  over  the 
hills  by  a  new  w^ay  home,  getting  back  by  a  little  after 
two. 

One  day  has  been  the  over-making  of  me,  all  my  old 
life  has  come  back,  and  I  mean  to  enjoy  myself  here  to 
the  full.  So  like  home  :  anemones  and  Solomon's  seal, 
violets  and  lots  of  little  familiar  flowers  laugh  at  you 
and  drive  away  the  gloom.  Think  of  having  a  cane 
made  of  geranium-stalk !  Rhododendrons  grow  on 
trees  as  large  as  apple-trees.  I  have  set  the  boys  to 
work  catching  butterflies  for  S.  They  are  not  very 
plenty,  but  now  that  I  hear  of  the  safe  arrival  of  my 
first  despatches  to  S.  I  shall  repeat  the  experiment 
often.  It  hailed  here  yesterday,  and  we  frightened  the 
ayah  by  putting  a  hailstone  in  her  hands.  She  dropped 
it  as  if  it  had  been  a  coal. 

April  24. 

As  I  write  there  is  a  fearful  storm  of  rain,  thunder, 
and  lightning  raging  outside.  The  rain  penetrates  the 
roof  too;  it  is  an  awful  storm,  hardly  a  dry  spot  in 
the  house.  The  ayah,  w^ho  sleeps  in  the  dining-room, 
has  come  in  here  to  get  comfort ;  she  is  scared.     I  had 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  311 

a  nice  ramble  with  pony  this  morning.  The  top  of 
these  hills  is  most  singular.  All  the  eminences  are  of 
a  like  height  and  contour.  Each  one  has  a  rounded 
head  and  slopes  gradually  down  till  it  reaches  a  stream 
below.  It  is  hard,  for  this  reason,  to  cross  from  one  to 
another,  as  a  deep  ravine  divides  and  a  grove  skirts 
one  side  or  the  other.  There  seems  to  be  no  end  to 
these  hills.  We  had  a  grand  sight  from  Nebo,  a  peak 
near  by  the  house  and  a  favorite  resort,  a  morning 
or  two  since :  clouds  Covered  the  whole  plain  so  that 
nothing  beyond  us  was  visible,  except  now  and  then  a 
hill -top,  looking  like  an  island  in  the  ocean.  The 
clouds  were  away  below,  but  I  presume  looked  from 
below  as  clouds  usually  do ;  from  above  there  was 
much  the  appearance  of  a  broken  sea  of  ice,  covered 
with  snow,  the  cakes  tossed  up  in  the  wildest  confusion. 
By-and-by  the  cloud-sea  broke  up  and  the  plain  once 
more  appeared.  I  saw  a  similar  sight  once  from  the 
Catskill,  when  we  were  there  together,  you  remember, 

but  it  did  not  compare  with  this  for  grandeur 

Another  fine  excursion  was  to  a  spot  about  three 
miles  off,  where  we  looked  down  upon  Bow  Village. 
Whether  the  people  are  archers  or  not  I  cannot  say, 
but  they  certainly  have  chosen  a  most  romantic  spot 
for  a  home.  Down  deep  in  a  valley  they  can  cul- 
tivate only  by  raising  terraces,  which,  looked  at  from 
the  height  where  we  were,  presented  a  very  pretty  ap- 
pearance. The  whole  view  would  furnish  a  taking 
theme  for  an  artist's  pencil.  On  the  way  we  scared 
two  deer  wdiich  soon  fled  into  the  jungle. 

April  28. 
We  have  a  tiger  here  I     This  afternoon  I  went  over 


312  LIFE  AND  LETTERS    OF 

to  the  lower  houses  to  see  the  people,  and  was  told  on 
entering  that  they  were  looking  after  a  leopard.  That 
was  game  somewhat  novel,  so  I  started  off  in  pursuit. 
Some  wood-cutters  told  me  where  the  gentlemen  were, 
and  I  soon  met  them  coming  back  without  the  game. 
We  came  up  to  the  wood-cutters,  and  found  that  one 
of  them  knew  about  the  beast,  that  a  horse  had  been 
killed  by  it,  and  he  could  show  the  spot.  So  back  we 
went,  some  on  horse  and  some  on  foot.  About  a  quar- 
ter of  a  mile  beyond  the  houses  is  a  deserted  spot  which 
goes  by  the  name  of  the  Bombay  dhorie^s  house.  Dho- 
rie  is  "gentleman."  It  is  a  beautiful  spot,  deserted 
six  years  since,  and  now  rankly  overgrown  with  thistles, 
roses,  geraniums,  peas,  and  honeysuckles.  Friday  last 
H.  and  I  had  wandered  through  the  woods  to  the  spot, 
and  enjoyed  ourselves,  all  unconscious  of  our  probable 
proximity  to  the  beasts  of  the  wood.  A  long  avenue 
of  tall  geraniums  leads  to  the  house.  To  this  place, 
in  the  open  field,  the  guide  took  us  and  pointed  to  a 
spot  in  the  grass  where  there  had  evidently  been  a  tus- 
sle. He  then  followed  along  by  the  wood,  showing 
where  the  beast  had  dragged  his  prey.  A  little  further 
on  a  large  round  stone,  which  had  been  sunk  quite 
deep  in  the  earth,  had  been  pulled  out,  and  upon  it 
were  horse-hairs.  We  beo-an  to  comment  on  the 
strength  of  the  animal  that  could  lug  a  horse  in  such 
style.  Now  the  trail  entered  the  wood  and  we  followed, 
having  hard  work  to  make  our  way  through  the  thicket. 
We  came  to  a  pool  of  blood,  and  a  few  rods  further  on 
came  upon  a  sight  that  looked  indeed  like  murder. 
The  entrails  were  lying  spread  out  entire,  while  a  few 
steps  beyond  was  the  head  of  a  horse,  with  the  legs 
and  ribs,  a  startling  proof  that  this  was  no  hoax  as 


DAVID  COIT   SCUDDER.  313 

some  had  averred.  The  head  was  untouched,  but 
underneath  we  could  see  the  hole  that  the  animal  had 
made  in  the  neck,  evidently  when  springing  upon  him. 
Well,  we  had  the  facts,  and  now  what  did  the  deed  ? 
Certainly  it  must  have  been  a  powerful  brute  that 
could  have  dragged  a  horse  so  far,  through  the  jungle 
and  up-hill  too.  No  chetah  did  that,  we  all  said  ;  it  was 
a  tiger.  To-night  our  opinion  is  confirmed.  There  is 
an  old  sportsman  on  the  hills  who  went  to  look  at  the 
spot.  He  says  that  nothing  but  a  tiger,  and  a  large  one 
at  that,  did  the  deed ;  that  he  has  been  twice  to  the  spot 
and  is  in  the  wood  now.     So  there  is  a  story  for  you. 

It  is  a  little  exciting  I  assure  you  to  think  that  a 
Royal  Bengal  is  actually  about  in  such  close  neighbor- 
hood. When  the  Deputation  was  here,  a  tiger  broke 
into  Mr.  Taylor's  cow-house  and  carried  off  an  ox, 
actually  having  to  break  away  the  gate-posts  in  the 
attempt  to  get  him  out.  There  are  two  chetahs  just 
over  a  hill  near  by.  In  this  wood  there  are  two  troops 
of  very  singular-looking  black  monkeys.  They  are  as 
big  as  ordinary  sheep,  and  leap  immense  distances.  It 
is  really  frightful  to  come  across  them.  They  have  an 
astonishing  roar,  a  most  unearthly  sound,  a  hoo  !  hoo ! 
with  an  awful  gurgling-like  sound  following  it.  Mr. 
Yorke  shot  one  on  Saturday ;  it  fell  dead  from  the  top 
of  a  high  tree,  and  instantly  after,  down  came  another 
like  a  flash.  He  thought  he  had  killed  two,  but  to  his 
astonishment  the  last  jumped  off  and  away  before  he 
could  get  his  gun  to  his  shoulder. 

....  A  few  days  ago  a  party  of  us  went  on  horse- 
back to  Glen  Falls,  a  place  close  by  Bow  Village. 
Coming  home  we  struck  off  to  view  an  ancient  fortifi- 
cation.    On  the  top  of  low  hills  we  not  unfrequently 


814  LIFE  AND   LETTERS   OF 

find  circular  enclosures  surrounded  with  a  stone-wall, 
and  below,  a  range  of  terraces.  Tliey  appear  to  be 
the  sites  of  ancient  villages,  with  these  enclosures  for 
the  protection  of  cattle  against  wild  beasts.  As  we 
were  riding  toward  one,  Mr.  Taylor  spied  a  herd  of 
bison,  and  at  once  gave  the  shout,  for  it  is  a  rare  sight 
here  nowadays.  They  were  on  a  slope  about  two  miles 
off,  but  our  glasses  brought  them  near  enough  for  us  to 
make  out  some  twenty-five  with  calves,  grazing  w^iolly 
unconscious  of  being  ogled  by  a  lot  of  white  folk.  It 
w^ould  have  been  a  rich  haul  for  a  huntsman.  For- 
merly they  used  to  be  in  this  wood  where  the  tiger  is, 
but  they  have  been  gradually  driven  away.  Mr.  Bur- 
nell  has  been  up  here  eight  times  and  has  never  before 
seen  a  bison,  so  you  see  I  seem  to  be  having  all  the 
sights  on  my  first  visit.  A  gentleman  told  me  that  on 
the  mountains  bounding  the  Kambam  valley,  on  the 
south,  is  a  vast  tract  of  unexplored  land ;  that,  travel- 
ling once  across  it,  he  came  upon  a  heathen  temple, 
either  built  of  or  covered  wath  brass,  a  resort  of  pil- 
grims ;  that  so  wild  was  the  spot  that  elephants  wan- 
dered into  the  temple  enclosure  and  actually  slept  in 
the  temple  itself.  You  see  I  am  full  of  tiger  to-night, 
and  so  tell  you  all  the  wild  stories  I  can  muster. 

May  3. 
All  excitement  to-day  again,  not  from  the  tiger  how- 
ever, but  from  a  more  harmless  thing,  —  a  box.  The 
box  has  not  come  yet,  but  it  is  coming  and  within 
friendly  hail.  The  expectation  of  its  arrival  has  kept 
us  on  the  alert  all  day.  The  washer-man,  who  brought 
up  the  clothes  to-day,  said  that  he  saw  a  box  on  the 
way,  which  I  thought  would  pass  for  the  long-looked- 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  316 

for  box,  so  I  seized  the  spy-glass  and  ran  to  a  hill  about 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  off,  which  commanded  the  road  for 
a  lono-  distance.  Nothing;  to  be  seen.  In  the  evenino; 
a  tapal-man  was  to  be  in,  so  I  waited  anxiously  for 
that  arrival,  expecting  also  a  telegram.  He  came  at 
last,  bringing  no  news  except  that  England  was  to  re- 
construct her  navy,  from  the  result  of  the  engagement 
between  the  Merrimac  and  Monitor.  But  the  man 
said  he  had  seen  no  box.  Soon  after  Mrs.  Noyes  rode 
over  with  a  letter  from  Mr.  Noyes,  at  Periakulam, 
w^hich  settled  matters.  We  had  the  contents  of  the 
box,  with  the  intelligence  that  they  should  be  sent  up 
on  Monday  morning,  —  to-day  is  Saturday.  On  the 
list  w^as  a  bundle  of  books  weighing  fifteen  pounds. 
What  it  can  be  I  can't  guess.  However  we  shall  rest 
over  Sunday.  But  all  this  fuss  and  fume  would  n't 
have  been,  if  I  had  not  been  disappointed  before,  and 
of  this  I  must  needs  tell  you,  as  a  faithful  chronicler. 

My  catechists  were  to  meet  me  below  on  the  30th, 
Wednesday.  We  had  calculated  also  that  our  flour 
and  boxes  would  reach  Periakulam  by  the  same  date. 
So  it  was  arranged  that  I  should  go  down  and  take 
Sav.  with  me  to  put  the  flour  into  tins  at  once.  Sav. 
started  off*  Tuesday  morning  before  sunrise.  At  two 
o'clock  precisely  I  started,  proposing  to  foot  it  down 
half-way  and  ride  on  a  tat  from  there  to  the  base,  meet- 
ing my  bandy  there.  I  trudged  off"  manfully  and 
reached  the  half-way  place  in  just  two  hours.  There 
I  found  my  tat  and  mounted  him.  He  was  a  raw  beast, 
but  I  kept  my  temper  for  a  wdiile.  Before  long,  how- 
ever, the  clouds  began  to  blacken,  and  the  muttering 
among  the  hills  told  me  to  prepare  for  a  mountain-storm. 
We  have  one  almost  daily  toward  night.    I  hurried  the 


316  LIFE  AND  LETTERS   OF 

nao-  as  well  as  I  could  for  half  the  distance,  when  the 
drops  began  to  fall.  Then  I  got  off  and  hurried  on, 
on  foot.  A  brisk  walk  would,  I  hoped,  carry  me  safe 
throuo-h  ;  but  a  whiff  behind  made  me  turn  round,  when 
I  saw  the  wind  come  tearing  do^yn  the  valley  behind. 
I  started  on  a  trot,  but  the  wind  gave  chase,  tossing  the 
water  of  the  little  stream  away  below  me  into  foam, 
and  whirling  the  leaves  and  dust  about  me.  I  saw  I 
was  in  for  a  run,  so  in  the  hope  of  outstripping  the 
rain  and  reaching  my  bandy,  I  put  in  and  tore  down 
the  path  in  a  real  old-fashioned  Williams-College  gait. 
But  it  was  no  use.  Pat  came  the  big  drops,  faster  and 
faster,  and  soon  sharp  lightning,  and  peals  of  thun- 
der joined  in,  till  I  was  in  the  midst  of  a  storm  that 
for  wild  fury  beat  any  storm  that  I  ever  was  in.  It 
was  from  behind  and  the  wind  blew  me  along,  while 
the  big  drops  of  rain  and  the  hail  pelted  me  most  un- 
mercifully. In  five  minutes  I  was  wet  to  the  skin, 
and  concluding  that  running  down  below  would  not 
keep  me  dry,  I  held  up  and  trudged  philosophically 
along,  as  well  as  my  water-logged  boots  would  let  me. 
The  storm  was  soon  spent  of  its  force,  and  when  at  last 
I  reached  the  bandy  it  was  quiet.  I  got  in,  hauled  off 
my  boots,  wrapped  myself  in  the  dusty  bandy-covering 
and  felt  comfortable.  But  I  was  not  to  be  left  so  long. 
The  bullocks  went  slowly  and  I  tried  to  hurry  the  man, 
as  we  had  four  miles  more  to  the  house.  He  said  that 
one  bullock  was  sick,  and  the  bullock  soon  showed  his 
indisposition  by  quietly  lying  down.  There  he  lay. 
The  driver  pulled  and  tugged  and  coaxed,  twisted  his 
tail,  tied  his  nostrils  up  so  that  he  could  not  breathe, 
and  resorted  to  all  the  ordinary  and  extraordinary  ex- 
pedients famihar  to  bandy-men,  but  in  vain.      So  I, 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  317 

disgusted,  pulled  on  my  boots,  after  a  deal  of  labor, 
and  set  out  on  foot  again.  But  my  heels  were  sore,  and 
I  spied  my  tat  hobbling  along  in  the  rear.  I  waited 
and  tried  him  for  about  half  a  mile,  but  he  was  too 
slow,  absolutely ;  so  I  dismounted  and  stood  it  out  to 
the  house,  which  I  reached  at  exactly  six,  a  remarka- 
bly good  go  for  this  country.  I  had  a  good  bath  and 
rub  and  was  as  well  as  ever ;  a  little  better  too,  for  our 
tapal-man  came  from  Madura  bringing  the  first  instal- 
ment of  home  goods  in  the  shape  of  two  "  Bibliotheca 
Sacras  "  containing  my  article.  I  was  quite  interested 
in  looking  over  the  articles,  reminding  me  as  they  did 
of  the  acquaintance  who  got  them  up.  I  was  better 
still  when  nine  o'clock  brought  Mr.  Rendall  along  on 
his  way  to  the  hills,  and  having  in  charge  all  the  over- 
lands. 

Wednesday  the  catechists  came  and  I  spent  a  good 
part  of  the  day  with  them,  hearing  reports  and  lessons. 
They  have  lessons  in  the  Bible,  Church  History,  The- 
ology, Catechism,  etc.,  to  recite.  No  bandies  came, 
and  on  Thursday  I  again  had  the  catechists,  and  a  very 
pleasant  meeting  it  was  too.  One  of  the  subjects  up 
for  discussion  was  Self-Denial,  and  we  had  quite  an 
animated  time  over  it.  Pastor  Seymour  told  a  curious 
story  of  a  man  in  Periakulam,  whom  he  had  lately 
seen,  who  for  one  whole  year  had  gone  without  speak- 
ing a  word,  and  for  another  year  without  asking  a 
question.  He  told  Seymour  that  he  did  it  to  "  subdue 
himself."  I  am  getting  the  catechists  to  learn  about 
missions,  and  had  Brecken ridge  give  an  account  of  the 
Nestorians.  I  shall  have  Seymour  write  a  letter  to 
them,  perhaps  to  Mar  Yohannan,  and  hope  thus  to  put 
the  people  in  communication.  I  shall  try  the  same 
thing  with  other  missions. 


318  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

Still  the  bandies  did  not  come,  and  in  despair  I  deter- 
mined to  go  up  the  hills  again  in  the  morning,  and  by- 
eleven  o'clock  I  was  again  at  the  top.  By  next  morn- 
ing I  learned  that  the  goods  reached  Periakulam  the 
evening  of  the  day  I  left.  But  Monday  noon  will  bring 
them  doubtless,  and  then  what  a  time  we  will  have. 

[The  box  which  causes  such  excitement,  is  one 
which  friends  at  home  find  opportunity  to  send  by  ship 
every  few  months,  and  which  contains  beside  flour  and 
other  necessaries,  the  numerous  tokens  of  home  remem- 
brance, and  the  papers,  books,  and  periodicals  which 
cannot  be  sent  by  mail.  One  can  guess  the  twofold 
pleasure  which  a  box  would  create,  in  the  sending  and 
the  receiving.] 

[journal  letter.] 

May  9. 
The  box  has  come !  after  plenty  of  delays  it  has 
come.  Monday  morn  I  went  out  with  my  marine  glass 
on  to  Mount  Nebo,  which  overlooks  the  plain,  and 
tried  to  spy  out  the  long-looked-for  box,  which  was  to 
come  up  that  morning.  And  not  in  vain,  for  away 
below  I  could  just  descry  two  men  lugging  some  big 
thing  swung  on  a  pole.  I  watched  them  till  they  came 
tolerably  near,  and  then  ran  back  to  tell  H.  The  box 
very  provokingly  stopped  to  rest  on  the  hill  just  oppo- 
site, close  by,  in  full  sight ;  but  though  I  got  all  the 
coolies  to  shout  after  it,  it  would  not  budge  for  half  an 
hour.  At  last  it  came,  and  I  triumphantly  led  it  into 
our  little  room  and  attacked  it  with  hammer  instantly. 
We  made  as  long  a  job  of  it  as  possible,  making  a 
rule  to  open  only  one  package  at  a  time.     One  of  the 


DAVID   COIT   SCUDDER.  319 

first  things  that  turned  up  was  a  serious-h)oking  bundle, 
promising  something  extensive,  and  which  set  us  agog 
as  we  read  on  a  shp  of  paper  outside,  "  Here  's  fun." 
Unwrapping  it,  another  shp  disclosed  itself  with  "  Must 
be  something  patriotic  ;  see  the  red,  white,  and  blue," 
and  a  flag  appeared  of  dimensions  small.  I  began  to 
suspect  somebody  and  that  somebody  S.  The  fellow 
was  at  his  old  pranks,  and  I  made  preparations  for  stor- 
ing a  supply  of  string.  I  was  not  wrong,  but  did  n't 
obey  one  slip's  injunction,  "  Cut  the  string,"  and 
was  bound  to  see  the  fun  through.  So,  after  patiently 
unknotting  twelve  successive  snarls,  the  bundle  rapidly 
diminishing,  we  came  at  last  as  our  reward  to  a  stere- 
ogram of  a  soldier's  tent.  We  used  ourselves  up  laugh- 
ing over  that.     Then  came  a  book "  Littell's," 

etc.,  came  out,  all  in  due  time,  until  finally  the  whole 
box  was  emptied,  w^hen  I  got  into  it  to  find  a  clear 
place  in  the  room  to  stand  in.  Such  a  litter  as  this 
room  has  been  in  since ! 

[to    HORACE    E.    SCUDDER.] 

PuLNEY  Hills,  May  16,  1862. 
....  I  often  picture  our  meeting  years  hence. 
The  circle  of  acquaintance  is  already  changing.  Two 
uncles  and  a  cousin  have  passed  from  the  world  and 
will  soon  from  mind,  and  no  year  probably  will  go 
by  without  witnessing  similar  changes.  Then  we  who 
live  shall  change,  and  not  having  been  with  you  I  shall 
be  startled  at  your  appearance,  and  you  at  mine,  for  I 
have  no  doubt  that  in  many  things  our  sympathies  will 
have  become  estranged,  which  would  not  have  been  the 
case  had  I  remained  in  America.  Already  I  have 
changed.     I  have  a  baby,  and  I  sit  and  rock  her  to 


320  LIFE  AND  LETTERS   OF 

sleep  or  cany  her  about  in  my  arms,  as  if  I  never  had 
been  a  stranger  to  the  Httle  thing.  I  fear  my  years  do 
not  add  worth  to  my  character.  Whether  it  be  the 
climate  or  not,  I  am  not  sure,  but  certainly  I  am  not 
the  systematic,  plodding  hand  that  I  once  was.  I  shirk 
work  with  fewer  stings  from  conscience  than  once  was 
true.  I  see  many  opportunities  for  at  least  fancied 
good,  which  I  do  not  improve ;  duties  plainly  impera- 
tive I  lay  aside  for  engagements  more  consonant  with 
taste.  How  difficult  it  is  to  reform,  to  change  old  hab- 
its  But  how  I  have  been  running  on  about  my 

poor  self,  forever  making  resolutions,  forever  breaking 
them. 

Oh,  H.,  you  don't  know  how  I  want  to  go  home 
sometimes.  I  fear  I  am  a  poor  missionary  in  spirit, 
not  that  homesickness  is  a  sin,  —  but  a  feeling  of  selfish- 
ness comes  over  me.  It  is  easier  to  live  a  Christian 
life  at  home.  Extraneous  promptings  to  labor  are 
plenty  there,  here  very  few.  Here  am  I  set  down 
twenty  miles  from  any  white  body,  wath  an  illimitable 
work  to  do,  a  work  which  will  more  than  meet  my 
ability  to  labor,  a  field  where  the  best  powers  could 
work  freely,  and  nothing  to  prompt  me  to  work,  save 
my  own  spirit.  Little  or  no  adequate  sympathy  will 
you  find  among  the  natives,  little  or  no  opportunity  for 
displaying  yourself.  There  is  no  approved  model  or 
method  of  working,  at  least  none  so  binding  as  you  find 
in  a  home  pastorate.  The  people  are  not  at  all  solici- 
tous for  your  services,  and  you  have  no  invitation  in  the 
character  of  your  audiences  to  display  your  talents. 
Your  work  is  to  impress  upon  most  unimpressible  ma- 
terial the  pure  truth  of  the  Word.  You  ought  to  go 
and  talk  to  a  people  day  after  day,  who  don't  want  to 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  321 

hear  you,  about  things  wholly  repugnant  to  them,  and 
which  find  little  response  in  their  consciences.  Our 
religion  is  not  popular  or  even  respectable,  as  it  is  at 
home,  and  the  coarsest  minds  shrink  from  appearing 
before  a  crowd,  only  to  be  laughed  at. 

And  then  the  quiet  pleasures  of  a  home  pastorate 
come  before  me.  Here  our  best  energies  are  expended 
in  making  the  mere  tools  for  our  work,  —  bare  words. 
All  the  time  thus  employed  here  —  in  itself  of  no 
value  scarcely  —  is  gained  at  home  where  your  tools 
are  at  hand,  for  other  work.  So  that  the  actual  amount 
of  labor  put  forth  by  a  missionary  in  preaching  is  much 
less  than  that  of  a  home  pastor  in  the  same  time,  a 
point  not  to  be  forgotten.  Yes,  I  do  want  to  go  home 
sometimes,  and  like  E.  run  down  to  old  Boston.  I 
suppose  it  is  human  nature  to  think  and  feel  so,  but  I 
do  want  to  have  such  thoughts  swallowed  up  in  brighter 
and  truer,  nobler  ones.  Life  is  quickly  over,  and  I 
sometimes  picture  the  good  time  we  shall  have  in  an- 
other world  in  talkino;  together  about  thino;s  that  have 
happened  since  we  parted.  Could  you  come  with  me 
to  Nebo  and  look  down  on  my  wide  field  with  me,  you 
would  say,  —  "  What  an  inspiring  view  !  "  It  is,  and 
there  is  evervthino;  in  it  to  nerve  a  real  Christian  to 
jubilant  labor.  Here  is  where  I  want  your  help  and 
that  of  all  at  home.  Help  me  to  labor  in  courage  and 
in  faith. 

[to  his  sister.] 

KoDi  Kanal,  May  20,  1862. 

We  are  on  the  Pulneys,  of  whose  fame  you  have 

heard  so  much.     You  would  relish  racing  about  on 

these  hills,  especially  after  having  been  in  the  furnace 

below  for  a  twelvemonth.     The  country  is  very,  very 

21 


822  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

different  from  mountain  country  at  home.  If  you  go 
to  the  White  Hills,  you  have  to  go  up  and  up  a  long 
way  before  you  come  to  the  genuine  Washington. 
Here  you  ride  along  on  the  dead  level,  till  you  come 
plump  abut  a  range  of  mountains.  The  effect  of  this 
from  the  summit  is  peculiar  ;  for  so  close  to  you  do  the 
plains  seem,  that  you  fancy  you  could  jump  off  on  to 
them.  Then  again,  if  you  go  up  Mount  Washington, 
you  find  about  room  enough  to  turn  round  on  tiptoe 
in  ;  here,  the  top  of  the  hills  is  much  like  the  second 
story  in  the  old  Chatham  House,  quite  as  spacious  as 
the  lower,  only  a  little  more  wavy.  You  can  go  an  in- 
definite distance,  all  the  while  eight  thousand  feet  above 
the  plains.  It  is  exactly  a  second  story,  only  instead 
of  being  level,  like  an  Indian  plain,  it  is  diversified,  like 
Berkshire  County. 

We  have  three  weeks  more  of  leave,  and  then  return 
to  our  Plain  life.  It  will  be  to  me  much  like  beginning 
life  here,  for  I  shall  have  a  full  year  in  view,  as  I  have 
not  had  before.  It  will  be  an  interesting  and  test  year 
with  me.  It  will  prove  either  my  worthiness  or  in- 
capacity, and  I  do  dread  it  not  a  little.  Any  amount 
of  work  is  possible ;  a  broad  field  and  plenty  of  ways 
of  doing  good,  in  any  one  of  which  I  shall  have  occa- 
sion to  try  my  best  powers.  Sliall  I  have  the  spirit  to 
meet  all  cases  ?  Shall  I  conquer  indolence,  worldliness, 
false  ambition,  personal  preferences,  and  set  myself  with 
a  hearty  will  to  battle  against  this  gigantic  heathenism  ? 
I  tell  you,  J.,  I  dread  the  encounter,  for  I  do  feel  my 
weakness.  Yet  the  work  to  be  done  is  plainly  before 
me,  and  if  1  fail,  I  foresee  that  upon  myself  the  blame 
will  fall.  It  is  a  hard  field,  yet  not  by  any  means  a 
discouraging  one,  for  if  one  choose  he  can  succeed  in 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  323 

throwing  a  better  spirit  into  the  community  where  he 
labors.  But  this  can  be  done  only  by  being  possessed 
entirely  with  the  Spirit  of  God.  Our  power,  our  cour- 
age is  from  Him  only,  and  we  can't  help  seeing  this  in 
India. 

[to  a  nephew,  h.  b.  s.] 

KoDi  Kanal,  May  27,  1862. 

Don't  think  from  the  heading  of  this  letter  that  I 
am  an  amphibious  dog,  spending  a  part  of  my  life  in  a 
canal,  or  acting  the  part  of  the  individual  whose  busi- 
ness it  is  to  sing  out,  "  Bridge  !  heads,  gemmen ! " 
Kdnal  is  "  grove,"  which  alters  the  picture  at  once,  and 
places  me  in  a  more  romantic  situation,  one  correspond- 
ing better  with  fact. 

Your  letter  was  welcome  enough,  showing  me  that  I 
had  not  lost  my  uncleship  by  exiling  myself  out  of  all 

reach  of  you It  was  a  regular  vacation  epistle, 

a  lazy,  meandering,  sunshiny,  clever  thing,  but  did  not 
smack  of  the  days  when  Virgil  or  Horace  or  Day  must 
be  whipped  off,  and  room  made  for  stationery.  Send 
me  another,  clear  from  Berkshire,  that  shall  be  redo- 
lent of  Flora's  Glen,  New  (Boot-jack)  Street,  College 
Hydrant,  and  West  College,  if  you  want  to  stir  the 
deeps  in  an  old  collegian's  heart.  Could  n't  you  let  out 
whether  you  are  'Logian  or  —  what  M'as  the  name  of 
that  other  across  the  way  ?  But  perhaps  the  old  halls 
are  deserted,  and  young  Williams  enjoys  better  accom- 
modations. 

....  You  know,  Harry,  an  old  dog  always  talks  or 
barks  sagely,  an  old  crab  is  forever  telling  his  children 
crabs  not  to  crawl  so  one-sidedly ;  so  I,  looking  back 
over  my  sprawling  and  hobbling  career  through  college, 
feel  terribly  like  taking  you  by  the  button,  and  reading 


324  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

a  little  lesson  to  your  innocence.  But  I  suppose  you 
will  be  a  Soph  by  the  time  this  reaches  you,  and  be 
important  enough  in  your  own  eyes  at  least  not  to 
need  lecturing.  However,  take  a  leaf  or  two  from 
my  experience.  Don't  be  afraid  of  fresh  air  and  out- 
door work.  Gymnasium  is  good,  but  Northwest  Hill 
is  better.  Don't  think  because  you  don't  expect  to  be 
Astronomer  Royal  that  calculus  is  of  no  use  to  you,  or 
give  up  trying  to  be  a  good  scholar  because  you  did  not 
have  as  good  a  "  fit "  in  one  thing  as  another.  Don't 
lie  by  lazily  because  you  don't  need  to  study  hard  to 
get  the  lessons ;  the  tortoise  will  be  clawing  your  back 
if  you  don't  persist  in  keeping  ahead.  Don't  go  fish- 
ing always  inside  the  breakwater  of  tasks  assigned,  but 
go  outside  in  rough  saiHng  and  look  out  for  other  fish. 
Take  up  some  subject  that  you  like  and  follow  it  up, 
finding  out  all  you  can  about  it  —  let  it  be  the  history 
of  the  Aztecs  or  the  Pottawatomies.  (I  wish  you 
would  write  me  a  treatise  on  Cromlechs,  wdio  built 
them,  etc.)  Read  a  little  and  eat  the  words  ;  read  not 
for  quantity,  but  for  quality.  (A  groan  —  "  Oh  that  I 
had  done  so!"  D.  C.  S.)  Don't  (What!  another 
"  don't  ? ")  think  that  I  mean  to  bother  you  any 
more.  Let  me  wind  up  with  one  good  f?o.  Maintain 
the  reputation,  not  of  a  race  of  Scudders,  but  of  your 
heavenly  Master.  Guide  your  course  in  college  by 
that  thought,  and  you  can't  go  far  wrong 

[to  his  father.] 

KoDi  Kanal,  June  5,  1862. 
Your  abundant  and  always  most  excellent  journals 
deserve  more  than  a  general  journal  reply,  but  I  am 
unable  to  find  time  enough  to  answer  as  amply  as  I 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  325 

could  wish.  To-day,  though,  you  must  of  course  have 
a  letter  all  to  yourself,  for  if  I  write  common  folk  upon 
their  birthdays,  above  all  should  I  write  you.  It  is  a 
subject  of  personal  rejoicing  to  me  that  you  have  fairly 
arrived  at  this  landmark.  As  far  back  as  I  can  re- 
member, I  have  given  as  answer  to  persons  who, 
wondering  at  your  activity,  have  asked  your  age, 
seventy-three.  To  me  you  have  stood  stock-still  for  I 
don't  know  how  long  a  time ;  if  I  could  hope  that  it 
would  be  in  future  as  in  past,  I  should  be  glad  to  hold 
you  still,  but  I  fear  that  is  impossible,  so  I  rejoice 
that  hereafter  I  shall  have  some  confidence  in  pro- 
nouncing you  seventy-three.  It  is  a  real  pleasure  to 
me  to  know  that  how  many  soever  years  you  mark 
upon  your  calendar,  you  will  to  me  continue  where  you 
were  when  I  saw  you  last,  and  I  can,  must  always 
think  of  you  as  the  kind,  cheerful  father  that  I  knew 
then. 

This   is  a  blue   day  to  me  ;   various  circumstances 

have  made  me  feel  unhappy I  don't  see,  and 

never  did  see,  where  my  gloominess  and  sulkiness  and 
down-heartedness  came  from.  Certainly  not  from 
either  of  you,  and  yet  there  is  nothing  that  causes  me 
so  much  grief.  ....  Dear  father,  a  man  whose  heart 
was  the  abode  of  no  one  but  the  Holy  Spirit,  would  be 
full  of  joy  at  the  prospect  before  him  in  such  a  field  as 
mine.  Here  are  countless  numbers  who  know  nothing 
of  the  gospel,  to  whom  the  gospel  is  capable  of  impart- 
ing infinite  good.  It  is  in  my  power  to  give  it  to  them, 
—  nothing  whatever  hinders  but  time.  I  ought  to  leap 
at  the  thought  of  the  opportunity,  while,  in  fact,  it  is 
usually  a  hard  trial  for  me  to  preach  to  the  heathen. 
In  our  weekly  prayer-meeting  up  here,  which  fell  to 


326  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

my  charge  this  afternoon,  I  remarked  on  these  words  of 
Paul,  "  We  also  believe  and  therefore  speak,"  and  the 
others  followed  in  the  same  strain.  Belief  is  requisite 
to  preaching,  and  according  to  the  depth  and  firmness 
of  our  belief  will  be  the  fervency  of  our  labors.  Abun- 
dance to  do,  and  nothing  in  the  way  but  an  unbelieving 
heart.  In  one  week  we  go  to  the  Plains  again,  and  my 
prayer  is,  that  I  may  have  grace  to  overcome  my 
natural  diffidence,  fear  of  man,  and  love  of  quiet  ease, 
and  be  bold  and  untiring  in  preaching  the  truth. 

To  do  what  I  ought,  I  must  be  away  from  home  a 
great  deal,  in  fact  more  than  half  the  time.  This  in 
itself  is  hard  for  me  and  hard  for  H.  She  is  alone  then, 
sixteen  miles  from  any  one,  and  I  am  constantly  solici- 
tous lest  some  evil  shall  occur  in  my  absence.  I  grow 
weary  of  being  away  in  uncomfortable  places,  seeing 
nobody  but  poor  heathen,  and  as  I  cannot  be  out  in  the 
daytime  much,  I  have  abundance  of  time  for  reverie. 
I  must  make  some  arrangement  by  which  I  can  carry 
on  my  studies  in  my  absence  from  home,  and  occupy 
my  time  fully.  As  mother  knows,  I  am  sure  to  be  out 
of  sorts  if  I  am  out  of  work.  I  do  easily  get  tired  of 
talking.  I  don't  think  that  naturally  I  like  to  talk, 
except  to  boon  companions  on  pet  topics,  and  I  need  to 
rouse  myself  to  converse  on  religion  with  everybody  I 
meet.  But  all  these  difficulties  may  in  time  be  over- 
come, if  God's  grace  be  but  granted,  and  that  is  always 
procurable.  I  certainly  am  deeply  interested  in  my 
work,  and  feel  at  times  enthusiastic  enough.  I  look 
forward  to  entering  anew  upon  it,  with  really  pleasur- 
able anticipation.  I  am  still  tempted,  however,  to  turn 
aside  from  legitimate  labor  to  work  at  topics  always 
interesting   to  me   now,   as  they  were   at    home,    but 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  327 

which  are  not  of  direct  bearing  upon  my  missionary 
work. 

....  We  have  a  pleasant  household.  Our  head- 
servant  Savarimuttu  is  invaluable.  His  own  father  is 
cook.  The  two  gardeners  and  the  horse-keeper  are  all 
good  friends  of  these  two,  and  all  moves  on  harmoniously. 
It  seems  a  great  number,  but  were  you  here,  you  would 
see  the  necessity.     A  common  Yankee  is  worth  three 

or  four  Hindus I  don't  wonder  that  you  are 

happy  in  your  old  days  in  looking  at  what  we  purpose 
to  be.  What  a  singular  feeling  this  of  paternity  is. 
How  I  look  at  little  Julia  and  ponder  over  the  subtle 
way  in  which  her  immortality  is  locked  in  with  mine. 
I  believe  I  have  given  her  to  the  Lord,  but  there  re- 
mains so  much  to  do ;  the  giving  does  not  release  me 
from  responsibility,  but  binds  me  in  it  the  more  strongly. 
How  you  would  delight  to  have  another  little  grand- 
daughter to  play  with.  She  is.  full  of  smiles,  and  as 
good  as  a  child  knows  how  to  be.  Oh,  how  I  hope 
she  will  be  a  good  girl ! 

[to   GEO.   D.   DUTTON,   ESQ.] 

KoDi  Kanal,  June  12,  1862. 
....  I  trust  that  the  good  people  at  home  will  not 
contract  any  extravagant  notions  as  to  the  barbarous- 
ness  of  our  surroundino-s.  We  are  amongst  heathen 
truly,  and  bad  enough  ones,  still  we  are  not  outlawed 
from  all  comforts  and  conveniences.  As  we  did  not 
come  out  with  the  intention  of  making  ourselves  as  un- 
comfortable as  possible,  we  do  not  deem  it  out  of  place 
to  take  in  a  comfort  when  one  happens  along.  I  take 
it  that  the  principle  upon  which  a  Christian  missionary, 
as  every  Christian  man,  should  act  in  life,  is  to  place 


328  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

himself,  as  far  as  is  in  his  power,  in  just  such  a  position 
as  shall  insure  the  best  possible  use  of  his  faculties. 
We  need  comforts  for  the  flesh  in  India  more  than  you 
at  home ;  that  is,  we  take  from  the  list  of  luxuries,  as 
you  deem  them,  and  label  them  necessaries.  Mission- 
aries here  are  not  extravagant  at  all ;  indeed,  they  can- 
not well  be  on  their  salaries.  At  first  sight,  one  fancies 
that  money  goes  farther  in  India  than  in  America,  since 
labor  is  so  much  cheaper  and  food  simpler ;  but  in  truth 
many  things  unite  to  raise  living  to  about  the  same 
notch  in  expense  that  one  reaches  at  home.  Wages  of 
one  man  are  low,  but  a  man  here  is  not  worth  one 
fifth  as  much  as  a  man  at  home,  as  respects  the  amount 
of  work  you  can  get  from  him.  The  people  are  not 
exactly  lazy,  but  work  is  not  in  them.  Then  it  is  im- 
possible wholly  to  ignore  the  customs  of  the  country ; 
in  India  we  must  do  as  the  Hindus  do 

[journal  letter.] 

June  13. 
I  begin  my  journal  on  the  Hills,  the  evening  before 
moving  down.  Our  boxes  are  pretty  much  all  packed, 
ready  for  the  heads  of  Coolies  to  carry  them.  Pony  is 
to  go  half-way,  early  in  the  forenoon,  and  a  little  after- 
ward we  shall  follow :  H.  in  the  dhooly,  as  she  came 
up,  and  I  on  foot,  till  I  catch  up  with  pony.  I  am 
bound  not  to  put  up  with  tats,  the  wretched  beasts  that 

I  rode  up Well,  we  have  done  with  the  Hills 

for  one  year.  We  certainly  have  been  bettered  physi- 
cally by  our  stay.  I  feel  much  less  of  the  lassitude  and 
reluctance  to  work  that  had  crept  upon  me  on  the 
Plains,  and  go  down  with  spirits  a  little  more  alive  for 
work.     There  will  be  plenty  to  do,  I  assure  you.     A 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  329 

catechists'  meeting  comes  in  a  few  days.  Then  I  must 
put  the  whole  station  into  better  working  order,  visit 
the  congregations  at  once,  and  prepare  for  an  early  tour 

of  exploration    through    my   whole   field The 

southwest  monsoon  has  set  in.  It  blows  most  furi- 
ously, and  brings  clouds  of  dust,  but  it  generally  cools 
the  atmosphere.  It  has  been  intensely  hot  below  for 
a  few  days  past,  thermometer  over  90"  at  5  p.  m.  ;  but 
I  hope  the  winds  have  moderated  the  temperature,  so 
that  it  may  be  a  little  more  endurable  for  us.  But  we 
must  put  a  bold  face  upon  it.  At  the  best  it  will  be 
hot. 


330  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 


CHAPTER   XV. 

RETURN  TO  THE  PLAINS  —  TOURING. 

[June-October,  1862.] 

[The  vacation  of  eight  weeks  over,  the  missionaries 
returned  to  their  work  on  the  hot  plains.  The  rest  had 
refreshed  David ;  he  had  also  gained,  I  think,  new  and 
more  quiet  resolution.  He  saw  before  him  a  year  of 
toil,  the  character  of  which  had  been  made  known  by 
his  short  experience,  and  he  looked  fully  in  the  face  the 
discourao-ements  that  awaited  him.  He  retained  his  old 
buoyancy,  but  he  Avas  growing  more  constantly  thought- 
ful :  not  care-worn,  but  care-sobered.  I  cannot  forbear 
reminding  the  reader  how,  in  the  midst  of  his  sorrowful 
self-reproach  at  opportunities  of  good  lost  or  thrown 
away,  we  see  him  turning  again  to  work  with  unceas- 
ing energy,  confirmed  in  his  habits  of  devout  confi- 
dence in  God,  and  inquiring  diligently  the  will  of  his 
Master.  "  Nothing,"  writes  an  associate,  Mr.  Wash- 
burn, "  could  deter  him,  whether  he  was  at  home  or  on 
journeys,  as  I  have  often  seen  him,  from  protracted 
philological  and  devotional  study  of  the  Bible  in  the 
morning,  and  in  the  evening  from  private  meditation 
and  prayer.  I  have  been  astonished  at  the  jealousy 
with  which  he  regarded  these  habits.  It  was  his  wont 
to  walk  on  the  veranda  in  the  dusk  of  eve  and  review 
the  day.  If  he  was  occupied  with  company  or  other 
disturbance,  he  retired  to  the  roof,  and  there,  beyond 
the  reach  of  any  who  knew  his  habits,  he  communed 


DAVID  COIT   SCUDDER.  331 

with  himself  and  his  God.  If  it  could  be  said  that  no 
one  was  so  enamored  of  philosophical  and  antiqua- 
rian pursuits,  it  could  also  be  said  that  no  one  among 
us  had  studied  the  sense  and  language  of  the  Bible 
more  thoroughly  or  sought  more  devoutly  its  spi?*   " 

It  was  in  this  temper  of  loyalty  to  his  Master  that 
he  worked  patiently,  cheerfully,  and  with  the  enthusi- 
asm which  so  often  thrilled  him.  He  gave  himself  no 
time  for  reluctant  thoughts  or  unwise  expectations ; 
backward  he  did  look,  often,  to  the  group  of  friends 
whom  he  had  left  in  America.  Before  leavino;  home,  a 
stereograph  had  been  taken  of  the  family  in  the  house 
where  he  had  lived-;  regularly  each  Sunday  morning, 
when  not  touring,  did  David  sit  over  his  stereoscope,  his 
eye  riveted  on  this  group,  seizing  hold  by  his  memory 
of  every  line  in  the  faces,  every  attitude  and  expres- 
sion. But  he  turned  away  from  this  sad  pleasure 
doubtless  with  more  earnest  purpose  to  the  work  at 
hand,  looking,  how  wistfully  his  letters  sometimes  show, 
to  a  more  perfect  union  in  a  better  world.  His  own 
removal  was  nearer  than  he  knew  ;  but  the  faith  which 
bade  him  look  to  that  coming  day,  inspired  him  also 
with  more  ceaseless  daily  diligence.] 

[journal  letter.] 

Periakulam,  June  27,  1862. 
Yesterday  one  year  ago  was  a  day  to  be  remem- 
bered, when  we  first  saw  Madras,  and  first  touched 
Indian  soil,  and  first  breathed  Indian  air.  We  shall  not 
soon  forget  it.  I  can  see  the  first  footprint  I  made  on 
the  beach ;  I  can  breathe  over  again  that  first  breath, 
the  like  of  which  I  have  not  known  since,  —  all  the 
impression  of  that  first  stifling  evening  and  the  next 


332  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

mommg.  One  year  has  gone ;  two  years  it  seems  to 
me  at  least.  Certainly  but  one  year  in  my  life  has 
been  of  like  interest  or  importance  to  me.  Now  just 
about  one  year  from  my  landing,  we  begin  life  fairly, 
for  now  we  are  down  from  the  hills,  and  have  a  full 
year  clearly  in  view.  I  cannot  feel  wholly  despondent 
upon  looking  at  my  position.  I  certainly  am  better 
off  in  the  language  than  most  at  a  year's  distance  from 
their  starting-point,  which  is  due  of  course  to  my  hav- 
ing studied  at  home ;  but  I  am  equally  and  more  sure 
that  it  is  owing  to  culpable  negligence  that  I  am  not 
much  farther  on.  The  coming  year  will,  I  think,  wit- 
ness more  satisfactory  progress. 

[to   SAMUEL   H.    SCUDDER.] 

Periakulam,  July  1,  1862. 
I  have  been  wishing  I  were  at  home  to-day.  I  do 
sometimes.  I  often  think  of  home,  you  may  believe, 
but  now  and  then  I  have  a  crying  after  it.  It  is  almost 
always  associated  with  a  sense  of  my  unfitness  for  the 
place  I  occupy.  This  day  sadness  arose  from  a  failure 
in  duty  yesterday  morning.  Early  in  the  morning  I 
took  a  handful  of  tracts  and  started  off  to  preach  in 
the  village  alone.  I  thought  I  should  succeed,  but 
when  I  reached  the  village  my  fancied  courage  fled ; 
and  after  walking  about,  where  was  any  amount  of 
people  ready  to  listen,  I  turned  and  came  back,  my 
conscience  all  the  while  hammering  at  me,  and  I  virtu- 
ally saying,  "  I  know  it,  but  I  won't."  That  it  is  a 
severe  cross  to  me  is  true,  but  no  excuse  for  actual 
dereliction.  It  is  very  hard  for  me  to  go  into  a  crowd 
whose  language  I  can't  understand  to  a  tenth  part,  and 
stammer  out  facts  that  they  don't  want  to  hear,  and  I 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  333 

feel  that  the  simple  secret  of  it  all  is  that  my  love  is 
not  strong  enough  to  bear  up  against  the  pressure  of 
disinclination.  But  if  I  cannot  do  this,  what  am  I 
staying  about  here  for  ?  To  many  persons  this  work 
is  scarcely  at  all  trying  ;  it  always  was  to  me  at  home, 
and  it  is  here.  The  circumstances  are  more  favorable 
here,  save  that  we  know  the  language  so  poorly.  The 
people  are  seldom  disrespectful,  and  always  fear  you  in 
a  measure.  But  next  week  I  am  going  upon  an  ex- 
tended tour  through  my  field  and  must  preach. 

....  As  we  were  driving  this  afternoon  I  met  a 
Brahman  with  a  native  book  in  his  hand.  I  stopped 
and  asked  him  what  it  was,  and  he  said  "  the  Veda." 
It  was  a  large  palm-leaf  book,  and  was  only  a  tenth 
of  the  whole.  He  was  rather  scared  at  my  talk,  but 
gradually  became  more  communicative,  and  engaged  to 
come  to  the  house  next  Monday  and  bring  me  some 
books.  It  was  just  the  thing  I  wanted  to  see.  Pre- 
cious little  learning  have  these  people,  and  miserable 
beings  they  truly  are.  Yet  it  is  not  an  improbable 
supposition  which  has  been  broached  to  account  for  the 
fact  that  so  few  Brahmans  have  received  the  truth, 
that  they  are  sunk  more  deeply  in  sin,  moral  pollution, 
than  the  common  people.     I  believe  they  are. 

[to    HORACE   E.  SCUDDER.] 

Periakulam,  July,  1862. 
I  have  had  in  mind  for  a  long  while  to  write  you,  a 
letter  in  answer  to  your  request,  giving  you  a  minute 
(accent  on  the  first  syllable)  account  of  the  daily  life 
of  your  exiled  brother.  I  fear  that  the  most  finely 
drawn-out  story  will  fail  to  give  any  adequate  picture 
of  life  here,  where  all  the  surroundings  are  so  utterly 


334  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

antipodal  to  yours,  —  trees  and  ground  and  sounds 
and  moving  creatures  of  every  grade  so  different.  But 
such  as  it  is  I  will  give. 

The  sun  rises  in  May  at  5.36,  in  January  at  6.30 ; 
and  these  are  the  extremes  in  the  year.  This  morning 
it  rose  at  5.47.  It  is  not  light  before  five,  I  mean  to 
get  up  by  five,  but  resolves  in  India  are  as  apt  to  be 
broken  as  in  America,  especially  when  you  sleep  in  the 
same  room  with  a  baby,  who  pays  no  sort  of  regard  to 
the  ordinary  laws  of  man.  I  am  usually,  when  at 
home,  awakened  by  somebody,  gardener  and  nurse 
perhaps,  talking  on  the  veranda.  I  retire  to  the  room 
close  by,  rubbing  my  eyes  and  peering  somewhat  cau- 
tiously about  lest  there  be  a  cobra  in  the  bathing-tub, 
as  there  was  one  morning.  Then  I  bathe,  usually  in 
the  style  peculiar  to  this  country,  by  pouring  water  over 
me,  for  which  operation  a  place  is  sunk  in  the  floor. 
During  this  process  I  muse  upon  my  somnolency,  and 
solemnly  affirm  that  next  morning  shall  see  me  prevent 
the  dawn.  Appearing  outside  I  usually  find  all  doors 
open,  the  ayah  sitting  on  the  floor,  doing  her  hair,  — 
the  amount  of  her  or  any  native  lady's  toilet ;  the 
s weeper- w^oman  sweeping  the  hall  with  her  little  wisp- 
broom,  stooping  till  you  begin  to  think  her  back  will 
break  ;  and  lastly  Savarimuttu,  who  touches  his  hand  to 
his  head  and  says,  "  Good  morning."  His  first  busi- 
ness is  to  provide  a  cup  of  tea  and  a  couple  of  slices 
of  toast.  This  answers  until  nine  o'clock,  the  break- 
fast-hour. 

Two  courses  are  now  open.  If  I  am  to  preach,  I 
summon  Manuel  Sylvester,  and  together  we  trudge  off 
for  some  mud  village,  w^ithin  three  miles,  and  preach 
for  half  an  hour ;  or  I  go  to  the  town  alone  and  meet 


DAVID  COIT   SCUDDER.  335 

the  pastor.  My  habits  are  not  thoroughly  settled  yet. 
This  morning,  as  Manuel  is  not  at  home  and  I  do  not 
think  it  advisable  to  go  without  a  catechist,  I  stayed  at 
home  and  tried  to  put  in  order  my  grindstone  which 
has  lain  unused  thus  long.  In  the  mean  time  every- 
body has  waked  up.  H.  appears  and  baby.  We  call 
the  horse-keeper  and  tell  him  to  "  tie  Mistress's  sad- 
dle," and  forthwith  pony  appears  with  a  saddle  that 
looks  on  him  like  a  howdah  on  an  elephant.  H. 
mounts  and  is  off  for  an  hour's  ride  before  the  sun  is 
out  brightly.  The  hen-house  and  dove-cote  are  opened, 
the  hundred  white  and  speckled  pigeons  come  flutter- 
ing along,  the  hens  follow,  and  our  three  ducks  sol- 
emnly quack  their  contented  salaam.  The  two  gar- 
deners, one  of  whom  lives  here  in  the  servants'  houses, 
one  in  town,  take  their  little  short-handled  hoes,  their 
solitary  implement,  and  go  to  work  in  their  lazy  way, 
or  they  draw  water  to  water  the  parched  ground,  one 
man  walking  the  long  sweep,  holding  on  by  a  tree 
growing  beside  it,  the  other  straddling  the  well  and 
pulling  up  the  bucket  and  emptying,  while  the  old 
watchman,  who  has  slept  soundly  all  night,  turns  the 
w^ater  by  his  hoe  into  one  bed  and  shuts  it  out  of  an- 
other. Then  our  dapper-looking  tailor  comes  from  the 
village  and  seats  himself  on  his  mat  upon  the  back 
veranda,  and  invites  anybody  to  come  and  have  a  chat. 
Add  to  these  the  cook  and  cook-boy  whom  we  have 
just  added  to  our  attendants,  and  you  have  our  domes- 
tic establishment  in  extenso. 

Until  7.30  all  hands  busy  themselves,  baby  among 
the  rest.  At  that  hour  the  big  bell  bangs,  and  sum- 
mons us  all  to  prayers.  Then,  beside  the  above,  we 
have  the  wives  and  children  of  catechist  and  servants, 


336  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

forming  quite  a  little  congregation.  We  read  a  chap- 
ter, and  Manuel  asks  questions  upon  it.  We  sing  a 
Tamil  hymn,  during  which  time  the  gardener's  daugh- 
ter makes  a  fearful  rumpus,  and  then  close  with  prayer 
from  Manuel  or  myself.  The  whole  exercise  occupies 
half  an  hour.  We  disperse.  The  ayah  scampers  to 
get  hot  water  for  baby,  whom  mamma  is  probably  try- 
ing to  keep  good-humored  until  bathing  and  eating- 
time.  Horse-keeper  brings  pony  round  and  ties  him 
near  my  door,  so  that  I  may  see  him  groomed  and  fed, 
else  he  would  not  groom  him  and  would  himself  eat  the 
food ;  and  I  take  my  Hebrew  in  Genesis  or  my  Greek 
in  the  "  Life  of  Christ,"  and  study  half  an  hour,  enjoy- 
ing the  task  greatly.  I  have  commenced  the  Bible  and 
also  "  Life  of  Christ,"  following  Ellicott's  plan. 

At  nine  comes  breakfast,  when  I  begin  to  feel  a  little 
cross  ;  but  chicken  cutlet  and  fried  plantains  and  waffles 
give  me  better  spirit.  After  breakfast  come  English 
prayers,  and  then  the  day  begins  with  a  sweep  from 
ten  to  four.  First  I  must  perhaps  give  directions  about 
the  carpenter's  work,  who  is  mending  some  church- 
windows  or  what  not,  or  I  must  nudge  the  gardeners. 
For  Tamil  I  read  a  Tamil  story,  then  Henry  Scudder's 
tract,  then  a  Psalm.  In  the  mean  while  my  munshi 
comes  and  sits  by  my  side  upon  the  floor,  adjusts  his 
spectacles,  fans  himself  with  his  handkerchief,  and  goes 
to  work  at  collecting  synonyms  or  vulgarisms,  which 
latter  it  is  well  to  know,  if  not  to  use.  I  read  to  him 
what  I  have  studied.  Then  I  translate  an  English 
tract  into  Tamil  and  English  Bible  into  Tamil,  with 
the  munshi  and  three  separate  versions,  a  first-rate  ex- 
ercise. To-morrow  I  shall  study  up  a  sermon  on  mira- 
cles, an  introduction  to  a  series  that  I  propose  preaching 


DAVID  COIT   SCUDDER.  337 

upon  Christ's  miracles.  H.  sits  in  the  next  room,  por- 
ing over  her  Tamil  exercises  until  one  o'clock,  when 
we  have  "  tiffin,"  consisting  of  cold  yesterday's  pudding, 
cake,  plantains,  custard-apples,  or  what  not.  Then  H. 
recites.  At  three  o'clock,  I  throw  aside  my  special 
Tamil  studies  and  take  up  some  different  task.  Just 
now^  I  am  studying  "Renan  on  the  Semitic  Languages." 
At  four  o'clock  comes  the  ever-welcome  dinner.  I 
must  not  foro-et  to  state  though  that  little  Miss  Julia 
makes  herself  a  conspicuous  actor  in  the  forenoon  scenes. 
When  awake  she  sits  in  her  mother's  room,  talking 
most  assiduously  over  her  simple  toys,  or  visiting  me 
now  and  then  and  making  fun  with  the  munshi.  We 
dine  on  chickens,  on  rice  and  curry,  now  and  then  on 
mutton :  to-day,  note  it,  on  partridges  !  After  dinner 
I  go  about  generally,  perhaps  doing  a  little  fixing-up, 
usually  overseeing  the  gardeners,  to-day  show^ing  them 
how  to  lay  out  the  flower-garden.  At  half-past  five 
H.,  baby,  and  I  are  off  in  our  nice  little  rockaway  for 
a  drive.  Baby  talks  half  the  way,  then  cries  and  goes 
to  sleep.  We  have  various  drives  about,  and  always 
come  home  refreshed  by  the  cool  breezes.  Next  comes 
tea,  right  after  tea  prayers  and  a  fuss  with  Julia,  w^ho 
won't  go  to  sleep,  do  what  we  will.  And  then,  —  the 
inevitable  letter-writing  in  my  study,  H.  sitting  oppo- 
site to  me.  Thus  we  are  now,  various  insects  flutter- 
ing or  crawling  about  or  banging  against  the  wall,  bats 
stealthily  whisking  back  and  forth  through  the  rooms, 
frogs  croaking,  crickets  chirping,  and  a  pleasant  breeze 
coming  through  the  open  Venetians.  Baby  usually 
gives  us  a  tune  or  two  in  the  evening,  but  has  been 
quite  unmusical  to-night.  "  What  time !  "  just  now 
says  H.     "  Half-past  nine."     "  Oh,  I  must  go  right  to 


338  LIFE  AND   LETTERS   OF 

bed."     And  so  we  must,  for  ten  o'clock  is  late  sitting 
up  for  us  here.     We  seem  to  need  more  sleep. 

So,  my  boy,  I  have  given  you  a  day,  and  very  much 
in  this  way  does  each  one  pass.  Sunday  varies  by 
necessity.  We  have  two  services  here,  and  in  the 
afternoon  I  go  to  the  town  church.  On  Tuesda}^  even- 
ino-  the  weekly  tapal  from  Madura  comes  in,  putting 
us  in  connection  with  the  outward  world.  Monday 
morning  I  have  a  meeting  with  helpers  here,  studying 
Paul's  Epistles  with  them.  Once  a  month  they  all  come 
to  be  examined  and  to  report.  Every  fourth  week  I 
propose  to  tour. 

[journal  letter.] 

Andipatti,  July  13. 
It  is  Sunday,  the  day's  work  is  done  and,  while 
waiting  for  Kurubatham,  the  catechist,  to  come  and 
have  a  little  prayer-meeting  with  me,  I  will  commence 
my  journal,  on  themes  as  appropriate  for  Sunday  as 
any  other  day.  Vetham  the  cook  and  my  bandy-man 
are  sitting  talking  in  rather  loud  tones  upon  subjects 
somewhat  abstruse  for  them.  Bandy-man  asked  me 
about  our  country  and  the  ocean,  and  the  few  things  I 
told  him  have  greatly  excited  him,  so  that  he  asks  me 
if  white  men  can  sail  to  the  sun.  This  day  has  been  a 
most  interesting  one  to  me.  I  came  here  Fi'iday  night, 
and  yesterday  morning  early  walked  to  Maniakaram- 
patti,  to  examine  the  school.  On  my  return  I  went  on 
top  of  a  high  hill,  and  had  a  good  view  of  my  field, 
and  laid  out  my  work :  you  see  I  have  come  now  for 
a  week's  stay.  After  breakfasting  at  half-past  nine,  I 
studied  some,  and  at  two  o'clock  examined  two  persons 
who  wished  to  join   the  church  ;  they  were   man  and 


.DAVID   COIT   SCUDDER.  339 

wife,  the  woman  rather  an  inteUigent  person,  but  fond 
of  trifling,  and  I  did  not  feel  so  confident  as  to  her 
piety.  The  man  was  less  intelligent,  but  gave  better 
evidence  of  being  a  humble  Christian.  I  was  really 
pleased  with  him.  Immediately  after  dinner  I  went  to 
M.  again,  and  held  lecture  preparatory  to  Communion, 
talking  about  the  persons  who  were  refused  admittance 
to  heaven,  although  familiar  with  the  Lord.  One  often 
questions  whether  the  same  end  does  not  await  many  of 
those  who  have  nominally  renounced  heathenism.  Com- 
ing back,  I  had  the  same  talk  here  and  went  to  bed. 
To-day  I  woke  with  the  feeling  of  a  burden  upon  me, 
from  the  recollection  of  what  was  before  me.  I  was  to 
perform  offices  which  were  wholly  new  to  me,  —  to  re- 
ceive persons  for  the  Communion,  to  baptize  old  men 
and  children,  and  administer  the  Supper  for  the  second 
or  third  time.  At  ten  o'clock  another  man  came  to  be 
examined.  I  had  seen  him  when  here  last  and  knew 
about  him  ;  he  is  of  higher  caste  than  our  people  gener- 
ally, has  long  been  familiar  with  this  way  in  Mr.  Her- 
rick's  field,  and  has  for  some  time  been  desirous  of 
joining  the  church.  He  has  an  old  mother  already  a 
communicant,  but  not  over-faithful  to  the  spirit  of  her 
persuasion  ;  he  has  no  wife,  but  three  children.  I  had 
quite  a  conversation  with  him.  He  spoke  well  and 
easily  and  familiarly  on  the  topic  in  hand,  and  when 
speaking  of  his  duty  as  a  church-member,  took  off  a 
silver  ring  and  threw  it  down,  as  a  signal,  he  said,  of 
having  renounced  earthly  pomp.  I  did  not  feel  wholly 
satisfied  with  his  spirit,  but  could  not  feel  that  I  should 
do  right  in  refusing  his  request.  He  is  punctilious  in 
religious  duties,  praying  when  he  goes  to  his  field  to 
work,  and  when  he  begins  to  draw  water  from  the  well, 


340  LIFE  AND   LETTERS   OF 

etc.,  and  has,  according  to  the  catechist's   testimony, 
been  striving  to  overcome  a  somewhat  hasty  temper. 

Monday  Morxing. 

At  twelve  yesterday  the  church-members  from  the 
two  villages  assembled  here  for  service.  We  decided 
to  alternate  in  holding  the  Communion,  first  in  Andi- 
patti,  next  in  Maniakarampatti.  I  was  sorry  to  notice 
evidences  of  caste  feehng.  The  mother  of  the  man  last- 
mentioned  was  at  considerable  pains  to  secure  a  seat 
where  she  should  not  be  polluted  by  the  Pariahs  in  the 
house.  The  M.  people  are  all  Pariahs,  Andipatti  people 
are  Shanars,  a  little  higher,  and  the  old  woman  higher 
still.  Last  Communion  season  this  woman  refused  to 
be  present,  because  it  was  held  in  M.  church,  and  she 
could  not  avoid  contamination.  Her  son,  I  am  glad  to 
say,  is  quite  indifferent.  We  had  quite  a  good  con- 
gregation, and  I  talked  about  this  feast  which  the  Lord 
had  spread  for  us ;  after  a  short  sermon  I  baptized  the 
two  adults  —  men  —  and  two  children.  The  woman  who 
was  to  join  the  church  had  been  baptized  when  a  child. 
I  made  the  three  candidates  stand  up,  while  I  read  to 
them  the  Apostles'  Creed,  to  which  they  assented,  and 
also  a  short  promise  which  I  had  drawn  out,  to  the  in- 
tent that  they  were  hereafter  to  renounce  the  devil  and 
his  works,  and  all  earthly  aims,  —  to  seek  to  build  up 
the  church,  and  live  according  to  the  commandments 
of  God.  It  w^as  as  simple  as  I  could  make  it,  and  I 
think  it  was  intelligible  to  the  people. 

But  in  spite  of  all  my  anxiety  I  enjoyed  the  service, 
particularly  the  baptismal  rite,  and  felt  unusually  the 
solemnity  of  my  office,  which  authorized  me  to  pro- 
nounce over  my  fellow-man   the   name   of  Jehovah  : 


DAVID   COIT   SCUDDER.  341 

tliose  who  decline  to  administer  the  rite,  shut  themr 
selves  out  from  a  peculiar  blessing,  I  think.  In  the 
afternoon  we  had  another  meetino;  of  this  conm-eo-ation, 
and  examined  all  in  New  and  in  Old  Testament  his- 
tory. You  can  have  no  conception  of  this  "  windy 
season."  It  blows  a  perfect  gale  for  two  months  from 
the  southwest,  for  the  most  part  unremittingly,  night 
and  day  ;  it  reminds  me  constantly  of  a  gale  at  sea.  I 
speak  of  it,  because  it  confused  me  greatly  yesterdav. 
It  blows  the  dust  furiously,  too,  so  that  you  can  keep 
nothing  clean,  —  books,  plates,  bed,  person,  are  all 
covered  with  it,  and  there  is  no  keeping  it  off. 

After  meeting,  yesterday  evening,  I  went  out  for  a 
walk  and  a  talk  with  Kurubatham,  but  was  met  at  the 
door  by  a  party  of  Brahmans  and  others,  who  had  come 
to  pay  their  respects  to  me.  Intelligent  men  they  were, 
and  one  can't  help  longing  for  the  day  when  such  per- 
sons shall  be  numbered  among  our  church-members. 
I  must  say,  however,  that  the  day  does  seem  nearer 
than  it  did.  One  year  ago,  when  this  church  was 
built,  these  very  men  were  mad  against  Mr.  Noyes,  and 
cursed  him  bitterly,  utterly  refusing  to  have  anything 
to  do  either  with  him  or  with  his  books.  Yesterday 
they  were  as  civil  and  courteous  as  my  best  friends, 
and  received  tracts  and  gospels  gladly,  and  talked  freely 
about  our  religion,  while  the  head  man,  a  Brahman, 
asked  me  to  send  him  a  New  Testament,  promising  to 
pay  for  it.     The  rest  of  yesterday's  doings  you  know. 

This  morning  I  rose  at  five,  and  after  a  cup  of  tea 
as  usual,  Kurubatham  joined  me,  and  we  set  out  to  visit 
some  neighborino;  villao-es.  The  first  one  we  went  to, 
about  a  mile  distant,  was  the  "  outside  "  of  a  larger 
village,  —  the  shoemakers'    quarter,  it   being   custom- 


842  LIFE  AND  LETTERS   OF 

ary  for  this  lowest  caste  of  all  to  live  by  themselves, 
outside  the  village  Hmits.  There  we  talked,  for  about 
three  quarters  of  an  hour,  to  a  dozen  men,  beside 
women,  children,  and  dogs.  I  noticed  on  the  wall  of 
the  house  where  we  stood  a  number  of  white  dots, 
and  found  they  were  put  on  when  the  house  was  first 
built,  "  to  keep  the  house  from  falling  down."  I  said 
only  a  few  words,  explaining  to  them  why  I  had  come 
to  the  country,  to  tell  them  good  news  which  I  had 
heard,  and  therefore  wished  to  make  others  know. 

We  then  went  to  the  larger  village,  and  had  another 
long  and  very  interesting  talk.  There  are  always  one 
or  two  persons  who  take  the  lead  in  the  conversation, 
and  the  others  listen.  Kurubatham  said  to  the  crowd 
that  soon  gathered,  "  I  will  read  a  proclamation,  and 
then  the  '  gentleman '  will  talk  ;  "  so  he  read  Mr  Tay- 
lor's simple  tract,  "  A  Brief  Statement  of  Bible  Truth, 
of  Man's  Fall  and  Recovery,"  and  then  I  began  by 
saying  pretty  much  what  I  had  said  before,  how  there 
was  a  difference  between  them  and  my  countrymen, 
in  color  and  dress  and  worship,  but  that  formerly  my 
forefathers  also  worshipped  idols,  and  that  having  heard 
of  the  Christian  way  they  had  left  off  their  old  customs, 
and  worshipped  the  one  true  God ;  and  that  now  I  had 
come  to  give  them  the  same  message  we  had  heard, 
that  they  too  might  believe.  The  chief  speaker  was  a 
very  pleasant  fellow,  about  my  age,  and  spoke  with- 
out any  bitterness  or  ridicule,  but  apparently  in  sober 
earnest.  I  cannot  remember,  nor  did  I  fully  under- 
stand enough,  to  give  you  the  conversation  as  it  oc- 
curred ;  it  turned  mostly  upon  an  expression  in  Mr. 
Taylor's  tract,  which  I  had  repeated,  that  ''  the  former 
time  was  a  time  of  darkness,  but  the  light  had  at  last 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  343 

come."  The  man  asked  what  had  become  of  all  my 
forefathers  and  all  his  forefathers ;  was  their  time,  in 
truth,  only  a  time  of  darkness  ?  Others  believe  differ- 
ently, saying  there  are  many  gods,  etc.,  how  can  we 
tell  which  is  the  truth  ?  I  told  him  that  persons  living 
and  working  in  mines  might  as  well  say,  "  There  is  no 
such  thing  as  one  great  light,  the  sun  ;  all  we  know 
about  is  the  lamp  or  torches  we  carry."  Kurubatham 
explained  how  Jesus  Christ  was  come  as  the  true 
Light,  now  for  the  first  time  shining.  We  talked  a 
long  time  on  this,  a  large  crowd  listening  attentively. 
Of  course,  Kurubatham  bore  the  brunt  of  the  conversa- 
tion, I  putting  in  a  word  now  and  then,  as  I  understood 
an  objection,  and  felt  able  to  meet  it,  with  my  scant 
stock  of  Tamil.  Toward  the  end,  the  man  said  there 
was  a  great  deal  of  evil  in  the  world,  and  that  we 
needed  weapons  to  contend  against  it  with.  "  Yes," 
Kurubatham  said,  "  and  we  have  them  in  these  verses 
which  we  must  place  in  our  hearts  where  the  enemy 
is ; "  and  I  added  that  God,  who  had  made  our  souls, 
had  promised  to  give  His  own  power  to  any  one  who, 
storing  these  verses  within,  should  sincerely  strive  to 
fight  against  sin.  Then  we  left  after  distributing  some 
tracts.  I  do  feel  encouraged  to  labor  here.  People  do 
not  oppose  us  with  anything  but  argument,  at  least,  not 
with  ridicule  or  abuse,  and  they  are  not  indifferent,  but 
listen  and  talk,  which  is  a  step  in  advance  of  past  days. 
To-day  is  the  Fair  Day  in  Andipatti,  when  all  the 
villagers  from  towns  about  bring  in  their  produce  to 
sell ;  it  is  now  ten  o'clock,  and  the  crowd  is  gathering 
fast.  Hundreds  come,  and  we  shall  have  abundant  op- 
portunity to  preach ;  so  I  stay  in  the  village,  and  will 
write  as  to  our  success. 


344  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

Evening. 

Well,  the  day  has  passed,  and  it  has  been  a  day  of 
work,  and  the  work  has  come  nearer  my  ideas  of  mis- 
sionary labor  than  any  I  have  spent  in  India  thus  far. 
I  had  a  short  nap,  and  read  a  little  in  Littell,  after 
breakfast,  and  at  eleven  went  to  see  the  fair.  About 
seven  hundred  people  had  come  together,  and  were 
squatted  by  their  goods,  in  the  middle  of  the  open  space 
by  the  church,  and  through  the  bazaar  street.  I 
stopped  at  a  trinket  stall,  and  bought  a  wooden  rattle 
for  baby,  and  several  curiosities  to  send  to  you  when 
time  offers.  I  then  went  back  to  the  church,  and  leav- 
ing my  purchases,  went  with  Kurubatham  to  a  temple 
where  the  people  were  squatted  about ;  we  had  been 
there  just  before,  and  seen  a  cow-doctor  extract  a  thorn 
from  each  of  the  eyes  of  a  poor  cow,  and  then  squirt 
into  them  tobacco  -juice ;  he  appeared  to  suck  the 
thorns  out,  but  I  am  not  sure  that  the  whole  thing  was 
not  a  hoax. 

I  sat  down  on  a  round  seat,  and  we  chatted  with  a 
very  large  crowd  for  nearly  an  hour.  I  talked  con- 
siderably. Then  a  head  man,  or  one  of  the  chief  men 
of  the  villages  here,  came  and  asked  us  to  see  the  school, 
which  was  in  the  temple.  We  went  into  the  inner 
court,  and  sitting  on  the  ground,  just  at  the  door  of  the 
temple,  my  back  very  disrespectfully  placed  toward  the 
idol,  I  examined  the  boys  in  reading,  etc.  ;  but  the  man 
was  anxious  to  examine  me,  and  he  asked  a  number  of 
pertinent  questions  about  my  country,  as  to  the  weather, 
the  people  ;  whether  any  black  men  were  there  ;  who 
did  the  work  for  us  ;  whether  Government  owned  any 
lands,  and  how  they  were  taxed ;  and  whether  we  had 
a   queen :    all   which    I    endeavored   to    answer,    and 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  345 

upon  his  finally  passing  a  high  eulogium  upon  our 
country,  found  a  fitting  opportunity  to  explain  to  him 
that  it  was  nothing  but  Christianity  that  had  made 
England  and  America  what  they  were.  He  was  very 
friendly,  and  I  parted  with  him  much  pleased. 

....  I  have  returned  home  from  my  tour  [of  a 
week]  having  visited  twenty  -  five  villages  ;  I  must 
have  preached  to  twenty-five  hundred  people. 

[to    HORACE    E.  SCUDDER.] 

Periakulam,  July  23,  1862. 
....  The  last  tour  that  I  took  has  given  me  good 
spirits.  It  is  pleasant  to  be  brought  fairly  face  to  face 
with  your  work  and  not  flinch.  I  was  forced  to  talk 
and  did  talk,  and  found  to  my  delight  that  common 
folk  understood  me  well,  and  that  I  had  the  command 
of  a  serviceable  though  limited  vocabulary.  I  felt  spe- 
cially delighted  because,  from  the  nature  of  my  field, 
such  must  be  my  work.  Some  of  the  missionaries  sel- 
dom visit  a  heathen  village  or  address  a  purely  heathen 
crowd,  their  Christian  congregations  being  so  numer- 
ous as  to  demand  all  their  time.  My  case  is  different. 
Then  you  know  the  native  reluctance  to  speak  or  talk 
to  strangers  about  religion  that  I  have  always  felt ;  how 
discouraging  to  me  my  Bible  agency  and  my  tract-dis- 
tributing work  were.  In  spite  of  all  my  fears,  I  have 
succeeded,  and  take  pleasure  in  what  before  was  a  cross. 
I  trust  God  will  enable  me  to  go  on  steadily  in  this 
work.  I  foresee  that  it  will  inevitably  conflict  with 
study  and  research,  which  I  take  pleasure  in  also.  A 
man  in  the  field  literally  half  the  time  is  not  the  one 
to  push  investigations  very  far,  and  I  fear  that  I  shall 
not.     However,  I  do  not  mean  to  let  it  trouble  me  ; 


346  LIFE  AND   LETTERS  OF 

my  duty  in  the  one  case  is  plain  ;  if  I  can  find  the  way 
to  connect  the  two  I  shall  try.  I -have  been  studying 
Sanskrit  grammar  a  little,  and  look  wistfully  at  a  class 
of  works  hitherto  untranslated  and  almost  unknown. 
I  am  feeling  about  here  in  hopes  of  getting  some. 
They  are  Sanskrit  philosophical  works,  from  which 
translations  have  been  partially  made,  and  serve  as  the 
great  authorities  in  Tamil.  Mr.  Hoisington  translated 
the  books.  If  one  could  brino;  out  the  original  Sanskrit 
works,  he  would  do  a  good  service  to  literature.  Dr. 
Caldwell  wrote  a  little  while  since,  urging  me  to  under- 
take it ;  but  I  must  first  get  the  books,  to  deliver  which 
to  any  uncaste  man  the  Brahmans  deem  a  mortal  sin  ; 
secondly  I  must  master  a  language  and  an  abstruse 
terminology.     I  have  httle  expectation  of  doing  this. 

In  going  among  the  villagers  one  may,  I  fancy,  learn 
not  a  little  about  popular  notions  and  customs  that  may 
throw  light  upon  some  questions  of  ethnology.  The 
popular  religion  is  a  very  mixed-up  affair,  and  I  have 
always  had  a  passion  for  searching  for  the  original  fabric 
of  common  faith  upon  which  Brahmans  have  woven 
their  own  belief  If  one  could  put  together  common 
superstitions  into  a  system,  he  would  contribute  some- 
thing towards  settling  a  vexed  question  of  races  here. 
But  all  these  questions  are  subordinate  in  interest  to 
me  just  now  to  the  purely  missionar}^  question,  how 
can  we  most  economically  evangelize  these  heathen 
and  best  build  up  these  churches  ?  My  head  is  full  of 
projects 

I  am  going  to  set  apart  Saturdays  as  holidays,  and  I 
have  now  by  me  the  early  volumes  of  the  "  Missionary 
Herald,"  containing  the  origin  of  this  mission,  from 
which  I  hope  to  extract  material  for  a  project  of  which 


DAVID   COIT   SCUDDER.  347 

I  must  have  spoken.  I  have  also  a  large  Tamil  MS. 
autobiography  of  a  famous  old  catechist,  and  may 
make  something  out  of  that.  I  try  to  keep  the  child- 
ren in  mind,  and  work  for  them.  It  is  splendid  to 
plan,  is  n't  it  ?  but  one  needs  patience  to  bide  his  time 
and  not  be  in  a  hurry  for  fruits.  I  sometimes  think  I 
see  Christian  congregations  springing  up  all  around, 
but  I  fear  that  many  years  must  pass  away  ere  it  be 
anything  more  than  picture,  or  prophecy  at  best. 

[to  his  mother.] 

Periakulam,  July  28,  1862. 
....  Time  flies  faster  than  it  ever  did  in  Myrtle 
Street,  and  I  think  more  happily  too.  I  have  plenty  of 
work  to  do  and  it  is  growing  fast  upon  me.  My  young 
head  is  full  of  all  sorts  of  projects  for  touring  and 
laboring  here,  some  crude  enough,  and  all  tumbling 

helter-skelter  over  each  other  in  my  brain The 

care  of  all  the  churches  weighs  upon  me.  How  can  I 
get  more  than  fifty  persons  out  of  a  church  of  one 
hundred  and  fifty  to  come  to  meeting  on  Sunday? 
How  can  I  get  the  people  to  give  contributions  regu- 
larly ?  How  can  I  induce  one  solitary  girl  to  learn  to 
read?  How  can  I  get  more  than  ten  boys  from  this 
church  to  attend  school  ?  How  can  I  start  an  evening- 
school?  How  can  I,  with  a  force  of  four  catechists, 
preach  the  gospel  effectually  to  a  thousand  villages  ? 
Such  questions  and  many  more  are  in  my  mind  the 

whole  time But  in  spite  of  all,  or  perhaps  more 

truly  on  account  of  all  this,  I  am  happy  and  becoming 
more  and  more  interested  in  the  work.  If  one  only 
goes  to  work  the  right  way  here,  he  will  certainly  see 
the  fruits  soon 


348  LIFE  AND    LETTERS   OF 

[journal  letter.] 

Aug.  2. 

....  Last  week  I  was  obliged  to  go  to  Madura. 
We  passed  through  Devadanapatti,  half-way  to  Battala- 
gundu,  where  Washburn  met  me  as  agreed.     A  great 

bazaar  was  holding  here After  our  lunch  we 

came  out  of  the  bandy  and  sat  on  a  log,  when  I  took  a 
tract  called  "  The  Bible  Proclamation  "  and  called  out 
that  I  had  a  proclamation  to  read.  It  was  in  the  thick 
of  the  bazaar,  and  two  thousand  people  kept  up  a  con- 
stant jabbering,  so  that  I  had  to  cry  out  the  proclama- 
tion pretty  loudly  for  the  fifty  or  more  crowding  about 
to  hear.  Then  I  expatiated  a  little  on  some  points  in 
it,  and  in  the  midst  of  my  speech  was  interrupted  by  a 
Mohammedan,  who  asked  about  Jesus  Christ. 

"Who  was  he?" 

"  The  Son  of  God." 

"  Who  was  his  mother  ?  " 

"Mary." 

"  Who  was  his  father  ? '' 

"  God." 

"  Take  care,"  said  Washburn  at  my  side ;  "he  '11 
have  you." 

I  knew  of  course  what  he  was  after,  but  did  the  best 
I  could  in  replying  that  God  had  made  creatures  Avho 
had  sinned  against  Him  ;  that  in  spite  of  all  He  wished 
to  save  them ;  that  in  order  to  save  them  He  had  sent 
His  Son  to  be  born  as  a  man  and  die  for  them,  and  it 
was  not  for  them  to  criticise  his  plan  for  their  recovery. 
I  had  never  met  a  Mohammedan  before.  W.  had,  and 
he  said  that  he  always  represented  that  God  himself 
had  come  upon  earth  as  man,  not  bringing  prominently 
forward  the  fact  of  the  Sonship.     The  man  evidently 


DAVID  COIT   SCUDDER.  349 

intended  to  puzzle  us,  and  yet  he  was  not  obtrusive  or 
violent.  We  had  a  long  talk,  W.  coming  to  my  aid, 
and  gradually  taking  the  talk  from  me,  so  I  turned 
about  and  soon  had  a  separate  audience.  One  boy 
seemed  to  get  my  meaning,  and,  as  is  very  commonly 
done,  took  up  my  words  and  explained  them  to  the 
crowd.  One  man  apparently  had  not  heard  the  gospel 
before,  — probably  the  majority  had  not,  — and  I  was 
pleased  with  the  eagerness  of  his  inquiries  and  the  man- 
ner in  which  he  received  the  news  that  it  was  no  longer 
necessary  to  go  on  pilgrimages  or  do  penance  to  get 
to  heaven.  Who  knows  but  what  this  news  comes  as 
good  tidings  now  and  then  to  some  poor  soul  ?  The 
people  crowded  about  to  get  tracts,  and  telling  them 
that  it  would  do  a  sick  man  no  good  to  hold  medicine 
in  his  hand  and  not  eat  it,  applying  to  them  the  moral, 
we  beat  a  retreat,  having  given  away  all  our  tracts, 
and  I  so  hoarse  that  I  could  hardly  talk. 

Periakulam,  Aug.  12. 

Another  batch  of  letters  came  to  us  on  Saturday. 
....  The  special  matter  of  interest  was  the  news 
that  you  were  going  to  send  us  a  magic  lantern.  It 
will  be  invaluable  for  this  people,  to  amuse  and  instruct. 
It  is  hard  to  find  anything  that  they  can  appreciate,  — 
this  they  will.  To-day  we  had  the  monthly  meeting 
of  school-children  at  the  house,  when  I  showed  them 
"  Harper's  Weekly  "  and  the  stereoscope,  had  them 
sing,  and  wound  up  by  playing  blind-man's-buflP,  a 
new  game  to  them,  which  they  enjoyed  hugely. 

....  I  am  studying  up  a  talk  for  the  heathen,  to 
be  in  readiness  for  my  tour  next  week.  I  propose  to 
take  different  topics  of  importance  and  dwell  separately 


350  LIFE  AND   LETTERS   OF 

upon  each,  until  I  have  a  stock  of  themes  well  di- 
gested and  in  shape  for  delivery.  I  begin  with  Sin, 
and  my  method  thus  far  developed  is  as  follows :  — 
"  Many  of  you  do  various  acts  of  penance ;  (here  I 
enumerate,  which  always  interests ;)  what  is  your 
object  ?  There  must  be  a  purpose  to  gain  something 
not  before  in  your  possession.  A  man  does  not  go  to 
the  jungle  in  search  of  a  sheep  in  his  pen.  That 
object,  as  you  say,  is  to  get  merit,  and  to  remove  sin. 
Therefore  you  admit  that  you  are  destitute  of  some- 
thing, and  that  you  are  sinners.  Yes,  we  are  all  sin- 
ners ;  but  what  is  sin  ?  Can  a  tree  sin  ?  or  does  your 
mouth  or  hand  sin  ?  No,  the  spirit.  (Then  I  enumer- 
ate sins  that  are  especially  common  here,  as  perjury, 
slander,  theft.)  To  remove  these  sins  3^ou  attempt  a 
great  deal  and  your  intention  is  good,  but  the  way  in 
which  you  make  the  attempt  is  faulty.  If  you  white- 
wash a  black  man,  he  does  not  become  a  white  man. 
If  you  visit  the  Ganges  to  bathe,  your  heart  cannot  be 
cleansed.  Sin  is  within,  and  your  own  poets  say, — 
'  Though  you  travel  to  Benares  with  aching  feet,  black 
will  not  become  white.'  I  will  show  you  a  more  ex- 
cellent way,"  and  so  on  to  the  gospel.  By  taking  one 
theme  at  a  time,  I  think  I  can  supply  myself  with  appo- 
site illustrations  and  learn  proverbs,  so  as  to  have  in 
time  a  valuable  stock  at  command.  You  see  I  have  to 
make  the  talks  as  plain  as  possible,  and  on  sin  even  it  is 
necessary  to  be  very  explicit  and  circumstantial.  The 
people  have  very  little  consciousness  of  sin,  their  con- 
science is  so  seared  and  perverted ;  to  neglect  feeding 
a  Brahman  is  as  heinous  a  crime  as  theft,  and  perhaps 
more  heinous. 


DAVID   COIT   SCUDDER.  351 

[to    rev.    GEORGE    F.    HERRICK.] 

Periakulam,  Sept.  3,  1862. 
....  Since  getting  into  my  work  I  have  found  but 
little  leisure  and  I  may  add  desire  for  other  pursuits. 
I  have  not  lost  my  interest  in  topics  that  formerly 
claimed  a  share  of  my  attention,  but  a  growino;  interest 
in  special  duty  as  missionary  has  cast  into  the  shade 
desire  after  literary  pursuits.  I  find  that  the  only  peo- 
ple we  have  to  do  with  know  precious  little,  as  they 
themselves  often  say  to  us,  but  how  to  plant  and  reap. 
The  higher  classes  are  also  ignorant  enough.  It  is 
almost  exclusively  in  Upper  India,  I  fancy,  that  philos- 
ophy is  studied  with  any  zest  or  success.  There  is 
however  a  wide  field  of  investigation  for  one  who  likes 
such  work,  in  current  and  popular  superstitions  and  wor- 
ship. The  mythology  of  the  lower  classes  of  India  is 
not  known  at  all,  and  it  is  this  that  practically  concerns 
us  much  more  than  the  Hindu  Pantheon  which  we  learn 
in  books.  I  hope,  after  becoming  familiar  with  the 
dialect  of  the  people,  to  be  able  to  pick  up  some  things 
which  may  be  valuable.  I  have  just  now  come  across 
a  book  of  "  Dialogues  on  Hindu  Philosophy,"  by  a 
converted  Brahman  of  Calcutta.  It  is  the  best  contri- 
bution to  our  knowledge  upon  the  subject  that  I  know 
of,  outside  of  translations.  It  is  a  dialogue  in  which 
the  principal  speaker  is  a  Brahman  who  has  been  led 
to  adopt  Christianity,  after  a  full  study  of  the  several 
systems,  and  is  an  admirable  exposition  of  the  char- 
acteristic traits  of  each.  As  an  argument  for  Chris- 
tianity,  it  is  very  fine.  It  has  upset  many  theories  that 
I  was  led  to  adopt  respecting  the  history  of  Hindu 
Philosophy,  and  certain  criticisms  on  special  systems. 
All  the  better,  as  it  certainly  has  made  an  advance  in 
the  discussion  of  the  subject. 


352  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

....  What  sort  of  a  literature  have  your  Chris- 
tians in  Turkey  ?  the  Armenians  for  instance.  Have 
they  any  native  hterature  that  you  can  avail  yourself 
of?  any  ancient  religious  works?  The  English  have 
done  a  good  deal  for  Christianity  here  in  this  way,  and 
the  Christian  Vernacular  Education  Society  are  pub- 
lishing many  valuable  works,  so  that  we  are  gradually 
getting  up  a  literature,  but  must  yet  have  many  new 
books.  Books  already  pubUshed  have  not  reached  a 
very  wide  circulation,  chiefly  because  the  people  are  so 
extremely  poor.  I  think  of  starting  a  sort  of  circu- 
lating-library here  at  my  station  centre,  for  the  use  of 
the  catechists.  They  are  fond  of  reading  and  would 
profit  by  it,  I  think. 

[to  henry  buck,  wethersfield,  conn.] 

Periakulam,  Oct.  25,  1862. 
....  You  are  a  farmer,  and  I  suppose  if  you  should 
take  a  trip  to  India  you  would  look  upon  all  things 
with  a  farmer's  eye,  and  judge  of  the  land  from  its 
capacity  to  produce  onions  and  corn,  horses  and  cows, 
barley  and  buckwheat.  Now  I  feel  quite  happy  in 
having  a  farmer  among  my  acquaintances,  for  I  can 
vary  my  tune  and  -write  upon  fresh  topics.  I  don't 
know  how  many  times  I  have  said  to  my  wife,  "  I  wish 
Henry  Buck  were  here,  he  would  enjoy  this  so  much." 
You  would  go  home  with  ideas  of  the  variety  in  modes 
of  agriculture  that  would  astonish  home  folks.  A  mis- 
sionary once  introduced  among  his  people  some  wheel- 
barrows. The  custom  is  to  carry  everything  under  a 
cart-load  on  the  head,  and  you  wonder  that  the  necks 
of  the  people  don't  snap  under  the  extraordinary 
bundles  that  they  stagger  with.     The  people  thought 


DAVID  COIT   SCUDDER.  3o8 

the  wheelbarrow  an  excellent  thing,  but  the  missionary, 
happening  among  them  one  day,  found  some  men  car- 
rying bundles,  barrow,  and  all  on  their  heads.  It  is 
a  good  illustration  of  the  way  that  Hindus  do  things. 
You  have  your  spades  and  shovels,  common  hoe  and 
potatoe-hoe,  rake,  sub-soil  plough  and  side-hill  plough, 
harrow  and  cultivator,  patent  seed-planters,  and  what 
not.  All  that  the  Hindu  has  to  do  the  work  of  these 
is  the  plough,  the  hoe,  and  his  toes  and  fingers.  Such 
a  plough  !  it  is  of  wood,  two  sticks,  one  the  beam,  and 
the  other  the  handle  and  share ;  there  is  a  bit  of  iron 
fastened  to  the  end  which  is  about  two  inches  broad. 
The  bullocks  draw  this  machine  over  the  land,  and  it 
makes  a  scratch  of  perhaps  three  inches  deep  at  the 
most.  They  will  have  eight  or  ten  yoke  of  oxen 
ploughing  together,  a  little  to  one  side  of  each  other, 
and  it  was  doubtless  while  ploughing  in  this  style  that 
the  prophet  Elisha  was  called.  They  plough  twice  a 
year,  in  spring  and  in  fall,  just  after  enough  rain  has 
fallen  to  soften  the  ground  a  little.  If  they  have  what 
is  called  "  wet  cultivation "  rice-fields,  they  plough 
when  the  water  is  so  deep  as  to  hide  the  ground,  and 
they  go  plashing  through,  up  to  their  knees  in  mud. 
But  the  hoe  is  the  most  striking  example  of  the  civili- 
zation of  the  people.  It  is  not  such  a  hoe  as  you  know. 
It  is  called  a  dirt-digger,  and  the  iron  is  more  like  a 
spade  in  size.  The  handle  again  is  not  like  that  of  a 
hoe,  except  in  the  way  it  is  inserted.  It  is  about  three 
feet  long,  and  I  have  seen  them  not  over  a  foot  in 
length,  and  nearly  parallel  with  the  iron.  You  wonder 
that  the  backbone  does  n't  crack,  they  have  to  bend,  it 
so.  A  spade  would  not  do  for  bare  feet,  and.  this 
really   seems   to    be   an   admirable   instrument-     The 

23 


354  LIFE  AND   LETTERS   OF 

people  are  quite  handy  In  the  use  of  it.  It  is  used  just 
as  much  for  digging  the  foundation  of  a  house,  or  pre- 
paring the  ground  for  planting,  as  it  is  for  the  cutting 
of  weeds  or  working  after  a  plough.  It  goes  much 
deeper  than  a  plough. 

The  cattle  they  have  would  hardly  draw  a  little 
horse-plough.  They  are  quite  small  and  very  diflPerent 
looking  from  home  cattle.  But  the  cows  —  they  are  the 
breed  to  draw  the  prize  for  milkers.  Some  of  the  fami- 
lies here  keep  half  a  dozen,  with  as  many  calves,  and 
you  would  think  at  first  sight  that  they  were  going 
into  the  dairy  business  ;  but  when  I  tell  you  that  the 
best  milkers  don't  give  over  a  quart  and  a  half  at  a 
milking,  you  will  see  that  a  family  of  babies  will  need 
a  family  of  cows.  The  cows  here  have  a  way,  too,  of 
not  giving  milk  unless  they  have  their  calves  by  them. 
The  people  never  kill  a  calf;  it  stays  by  its  mother  till 
she  dries  up.  Our  cow's  calf  died,  and  the  cow-man, 
to  insure  the  milk,  skinned  the  calf  and  staffed  it. 
This  was  presented  to  the  cow  at  each  milking,  and 
duly  licked  by  the  mother.  When  we  went  to  the 
Hills  for  our  health,  the  cow  was  taken  also,  but  the 
man  thought  it  hardly  worth  while  to  take  the  stuffing. 
But  he  took  the  skin,  and  daily  it  had  to  be  licked,  or 
the  cow  would  not  give  down  the  milk.  The  people 
here  milk  a  cow  on  the  left  side. 

The  grains  that  are  raised  here  are  numerous  enough, 
but  hardly  one  is  known  at  home.  Wheat  of  an  in- 
ferior kind  is  raised  upon  the  Hills,  where  it  is  cooler. 
They  raise  a  kind  of  maize,  but  it  is  poor.  Some 
vegetables  have  been  imported  and  grow  tolerably  well. 
We  have  tried  gardening,  and  have  new  tomatoes, 
cucumbers,  squashes,  and  melons.   Pease,  beans,  turnips, 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  355 

« 

cabbage,  lettuce,  celery,  beets,  have  also  been  planted. 
Some  have  come  up,  but  whether  they  do  well  or  not 
remains  to  be  seen.  The  chief  difficulty  is  in  getting 
good  seed. 

....  Well,  after  going  into  agriculture,  I  have 
space  left  to  say  "  How  do  you  do?"  to  one  and  all.  . 
...  I  need  no  fancy  or  stereoscopic  view  to  tell  me 
how  things  look  at  Uncle  W.'s.  I  can  see  the  old 
Maltese  as  she  dives  into  that  square  hole  in  the  back 
porch.  I  can  see  the  shiny,  creamy  pan  of  milk  in  that 
pantry,  and  my  !  does  n't  it  smell  tip-top  ?  I  can  see 
the  keys  hanging  on  the  nails  in  the  kitchen,  the 
ostrich  eggs,  the    supplement   to  the    "  Courant."     I 

can  hear  the  chair  crush  up  the  wall, pounding 

the  clothes  as  if  bound  to  give  them  a  good  pinching 

for  getting  dirty I  might  go  on  to  specify  the 

several  smells,  good,  bad,  and  indifferent,  that  even 
now  salute  me,  as  memory  runs  over  the  days  gone 
by,  spent  in  that  blessed  spot  hard  by  the  Folly.  I 
tell  you,  H.,  those  were  glorious  days  for  me,  and 
there  are  none  that  I  look  back  upon  with  such  un- 
minsfled  satisfaction. 


S5Q  LIFE  AND  LETTERS   OF 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

SEARCH  AMONG  CROMLECHS. 

[1862.] 

[While  on  the  Pulney  Hills,  David's  interest  was 
excited  by  the  report  that  there  were  in  the  neighbor- 
hood monumental  remains,  which  might  throw  some 
light  upon  the  investigations  which  he  had  been  making 
concerning  the  earlier  inhabitants  of  India.  He  made 
an  excursion  to  the  place,  and  afterward,  discovering 
similar  remains  in  the  valley,  he  entered  upon  an 
enthusiastic  exploration  which  was  promising  valuable 
results  when  it  was  brought  to  an  end  by  his  death. 
I  have  collected  into  one  narrative  the  accounts  of  the 
various  excursions  which  he  made,  the  last  occurring 
but  a  few  days  before  his  death.] 

[JOURXAL    LETTER.] 

PuLXEY  Hills,  May  22,  1862. 
....  I  had  what  might  fairly  be  termed  a  tramp, 
and  with  rather  an  unusual  object  in  view.  You  know 
I  have  always  been  Interested  In  the  antiquities  of 
India,  and  especially  In  matters  pertaining  to  the  hill 
tribes.  I  had  read  often  of  the  relics  found  on  the 
Nllaglris,  but  did  not  know  until  recently  that  similar 
remains  were  to  be  found  on  these  Pulney  Hills.  A  few 
weeks  ago  I  heard  from  Mr.  Taylor  that  such  remains 
were  upon  the  hills  and  accessible,  so  I  at  once  pro- 
posed an  excursion  In  search.     Yesterday  we  started 


DAVID  COIT   SCUDDER.  35T 

off,  Mr.  Taylor,  Mr.  Burnell,  Mr.  Hunt,  and  I.  A 
Coolie  went  with  us  carrying  provisions  for  the  day,  and 
my  gardener  carried  a  crowbar  and  hoe.  We  had  a 
cup  of  tea  early,  and  were  oflL"  by  half-past  six.  We 
went  down  the  mountain  to  the  first  landing-place  on 
the  way  to  Periakulam.  But  then,  instead  of  descend- 
ing the  mountain,  we  went  up  in  another  direction,  by 
a  decidedly  rough  specimen  of  a  path,  often  having  to 
dismount  and  pull  our  horses  along.  After  a  toilsome 
ride  we  arrived,  at  half-past  nine,  at  the  ruins  of  an  old 
house,  occupied  by  a  former  collector  of  this  district. 
It  is  called  Blackburn's  bungalow.  Here  we  stopped, 
opened  our  box  and  breakfasted.  We  were  greatly 
annoyed  by  flies,  that  reminded  us  of  Livingstpne's  fa- 
mous tsetze-fly,  they  tormented  us  and  the  horses  so. 
We  left  our  horses  here  in  charge  of  our  Coolie,  and 
then  set  out  for  the  supposed  site  of  the  cromlechs. 
The  foot-path  was  a  most  romantic  one.  It  skirted  the 
side  of  a  high  mountain,  looking  down  into  a  beautifully 
wooded  stream  away  below,  from  which  we  heard  a 
perfect  orchestra  of  insects.  It  wound  along,  descend- 
ing gradually  until  it  brought  us  to  a  brook,  a  good 
way  down  the  hill.  We  left  our  coats  by  the  side  of 
the  path,  for  tramping  was  hard  work,  and  the  sun  was 
hot,  even  under  umbrellas.  Crossing  the  brook,  we 
scoured  along  by  the  side  of  another  hill  and  down  over 
another  brook.  Here  the  recent  footprints  of  elk  were 
clearly  seen  and  the  hollows  w^here  they  wallow. 

We  had  travelled  so  far,  a  little  over  an  hour,  when 
Mr.  Taylor,  who  always  keeps  his  eyes  open,  shouted, 
"There  they  are!  Cromlechs!  Hurrah!"  and  away 
we  rushed  pell-mell  at  what  he  pointed  out.  Sure 
enough,  here  was  the  veritable  thing,  not  to  be  mis- 


358  LIFE  AND  LETTERS   OF 

taken  a  moment.  It  was  upon  the  nose  of  a  ridge, 
running  out  from  the  mountain  and  overlooking  a  long 
and  beautiful  valley  below  it,  —  a  most  picturesque 
spot.  The  first  that  we  came  upon  were  placed  within 
a  raised  place  twenty-four  feet  square,  facing  east  and 
west.  In  or  on  this  platform  were  a  dozen  and  more 
of  these  structures.  They  were  much  broken  up  and 
falling  to  decay.  As  originally  built,  they  consisted  of 
slabs  of  unhewn  stone,  three  placed  on  end,  and  an- 
other immense  one  laid  across  them,  giving  an  opening 
at  one  end,  and  making  a  nice  "  cubby-house,"  —  one 
large  one  measured  eight  feet  in  length  and  four  in 
breadth.  We  crawled  under  this,  though  the  slab  was 
partly  fallen  down,  and  calling  for  the  hoe,  I  scratched 
away  the  soil  that  was  below,  in  hopes  of  finding  fioor- 
ing.  I  think  I  was  not  mistaken,  for  I  found  a  flat 
stone  wherever  I  dug,  and  it  sounded  hollow.  I  did 
not  scratch  away  all  the  mould,  as  it  was  not  easy  work, 
and  it  was  a  sheer  impossibility  to  attempt  to  move  the 
slab,  in  hope  of  finding  anything  beneath.  There  were 
six  of  these  cromlechs  in  a  row,  and  we  made  out  three 
rows  pretty  clearly. 

The  platform  itself  was  neatly  walled  up  with  square 
unhewn  stones,  and  raised  about  three  feet  above  the 
ground.  A  couple  of  rods  down  the  hill  were  several 
others  of  the  same  style,  but  not  enclosed  with  any 
wall,  or,  at  least,  with  none  well  preserved.  We  pried 
open  one  that  seemed  closed,  but  found  only  a  heap  of 
cobble-stones.  We  needed  a  force  of  men  to  make 
proper  investigation,  and  had  to  leave  such  further  and 
more  thorough  search  for  another  time.  Leaving  Mr. 
Burnell  here,  Mr.  Taylor  and  I  walked  on  for  about 
half  a  mile,  in  hope  of  finding  others  on  the  side  of  a 


DAVID  COIT   SCUDDER.  359 

knoll.  But  none  were  visible,  and  after  a  rest  we  re- 
turned. 

PuLNEY  Hills,  May  31,  1862. 
Yesterday  I  had  a  tramp  indeed.  A  little  after  six 
I  was  off*  on  pony  with  the  horse-keeper  and  a  Coolie 
who  carried  my  lunch  and  a  hoe.  By  nine  o'clock  I 
reached  a  river  not  far  from  the  first-seen  cromlechs. 
There,  seated  on  a  flat  rock,  the  water  foaming  all 
about  me,  I  ate  my  cold  eggs  and  biscuit,  and  then  went 
on  to  the  old  spot.  I  set  the  boy  at  work  digging  in 
one  to  see  if  he  could  find  a  slab  below,  corresponding 
to  the  slab  above.  He  soon  came  to  one,  though  it  was 
well  covered  with  rocks  and  loam.  At  the  end  of  this 
cromlech  was  another  apartment  of  about  like  size,  full 
of  cobble-stones.  To  get  at  this  end  of  the  slab,  I 
must  remove  part  of  the  pile.  It  was  hard  work  in  the 
hot  sun,  but  we  finally  succeeded  in  uncovering  both 
ends.  The  slab  was  very  heavy,  a  foot  thick,  three 
feet  wide,  and  five  feet  long  ;  it  was  impossible  to  lift 
it.  All  I  could  do  was  to  feel  underneath.  There 
was  clearly  a  hollow,  but  whether  anything  was  in  it  I 
could  not  tell,  though  I  pulled  out  a  handful  of  damp 
leaves.  After  digging  awhile  I  pushed  further  on  in 
search  of  new  cromlechs.  After  riding  two  miles  along 
a  mountain-slope  I  came  to  another  spur  of  the  moun- 
tain, jutting  out  into  the  valley Of  a  sudden, 

looking  about  me  I  espied  what  I  most  wanted  to  see, 
—  cromlechs.  They  were  on  the  brow  of  the  hill,  in 
exactly  similar  position  to  that  of  the  old  ones.  But 
they  w^ere  much  finer,  in  a  better  state  of  preservation 
and  larger.  One  slab  was  enormous.  It  was  full 
eight  feet  high,  six  feet  long,  and  a  foot  and  a  half 
thick,  standing  perfectly  perpendicular  on  edge.     This 


360  LIFE  AND  LETTERS   OF 

had  nothing  to  correspond  with  it,  but  abreast  of  it 
and  in  perfect  line  were  two  well-shaped  apartments 
measuring  each  about  six  feet  in  length  and  three  in 
width,  about  four  or  five  feet  high,  three-sided,  with 
no  slab  on  top.  Then,  on  what  would  answer  as  the 
opposite  side  of  the  street,  was  another  row,  but  in  a 
very  tumbled-down  condition,  and  at  one  end  of  the 
street  was  another  smaller  one,  facing  in  the  opposite 
direction.     They  all  face  either  east  or  north. 

It  was  very  evident  where  the  slabs  came  from,  for 
the  brow  of  the  hill  was  a  bare,  stratified  gneiss  rock, 
easily  peeling  off  into  thick  slabs,  and  the  places  from 
which  they  were  taken  were  plainly  marked.  Some  of 
these  cromlechs  also  were  wholly  shut  up,  and  I  should 
like  to  look  beneath.  I  duo;  ao;ain  here  in  search  of  a 
lower  slab,  and  after  digging  over  a  foot,  came  to  one. 
So  all,  thus  far  examined,  have  slabs  below.  Now  the 
question  is,  have  these  cromlechs  relics  of  any  kind  be- 
neath ?  The  slabs  are  so  heavy  that  it  would  require  a 
strong  force  of  natives  to  lift  them,  and  I  want  to  get  up 
an  expedition  that  shall  do  up  the  thing  thoroughly. 
When  you  remember  that  these  have  an  antiquity  prob- 
ably equal  to  that  of  Celtic  remains  in  Britain,  that 
the  most  primitive  of  the  inhabitants  here  have  not  a 
whisper  of  tradition  about  them,  you  will  admit  that 
they  possess  an  interest  of  no  common  kind.  But  they 
are  hard  to  get  at  in  one  day,  and  there  is  no  village 
handy.  There  are  villages  below  you,  and  most  lovely 
spots  are  they  in ;  I  think  I  shall  try  to  reach  one  and 
stay  there  a  day  or  two,  making  explorations. 

Another  trouble  is  the  rain,  as  I  can  testify.  I  got 
back  for  dinner  at  the  brook  by  two  o'clock,  and  at 
three  I  was  ready  to  start,  but  already  the  drops  had 


DAVID   COIT   SCUDDER.  361 

begun  to  fall,  and  I  was  a  hard  five  miles  from  home. 
But  I  buttoned  up  my  coat,  spread  my  umbrella  and 
started  on.  First  came  an  awful  tug  on  foot  up  a  high 
hill  for  nearly  a  mile.  The  grass  was  so  tall  that  you 
could  often  find  the  path  only  by  shuffling  with  your 
feet.  Coming  down  the  soft  grass  felt  nicely,  but  now 
it  needed  but  a  few  wisps  to  put  you  into  a  pleasant 
state  of  wetness.  Pony  and  the  men  followed  dolefully 
on,  and  before  we  had  reached  the  summit,  we  had  it 
in  fuss  and  fury.  Once  a  year  we  have  such  rains  at 
home,  but  not  oftener.  Here  among  the  mountains 
they  are  truly  fearful.  The  little  bridle-paths  were 
full  of  water  rushing  along,  and  as  we  turned  one 
corner  of  a  hill  and  another,  the  rising  wind  came 
swooping  upon  us  from  one  quarter  or  another,  till  it 
seemed  as  if  old  Boreas  would  split  his  cheeks.  Finally 
it  came  with  such  a  burst,  that  I  burst  out  laughing 
and  struck  up  Yankee  Doodle  and  Star-Spangled 
Banner.  It  was  a  ride  worth  riding.  The  road  was 
bad,  and  I  had  every  now  and  then  to  get  off  and  lead 
pony,  not  risking  my  neck  on  him,  and  it  was  impos- 
sible to  get  out  of  a  walk.  So  we  had  to  grin  and  bear 
it,  plunging  along  through  the  swash  for  two  hours  and 
a  half,  till  within  half  a  mile  of  home. 

[A  few  days  after  this  David  was  obliged  to  leave 
the  Hills,  without  an  opportunity  for  further  search ; 
but  several  weeks  later  he  made  an  excursion  with  Mr. 
Washburn  and  Mr.  Capron  to  Man  a  Madura,  to  ex- 
amine some  remains  which  had  been  discovered  by 
Mr.  Capron  while  engaged  in  building  a  house  at  this 
place.] 


362  LIFE  AND  LETTERS   OF 

[journal  letter.] 

TiRUPUVANAM,  Sept.  20,  1862. 
We  have  come  back  from  our  torn'  of  scientific  re- 
search in  the  vicinity  of  Mana  Madura.     We  reached 
the  village  near  which  the  rehcs  are  at  dusk,  and  passed 

the  night Before  five  in  the  morning  we  set 

out  for  the  remains,  about  half  a  mile  off.  All  that  is 
seen  above  the  surface  is  the  rim  of  an  earthen  pot, 
about  a  foot  and  a  half  or  two  feet  in  diameter.  There 
were  some  dozen  or  more  to  be  seen.  So  we  set  to 
work  to  dig  one  up.  It  was  about  two  feet  deep,  with- 
out a  cover  and  filled  tight  with  gravel.  We  dag  out 
the  gravel  and  at  the  bottom  found  two  little  pots,  of 
such  pottery  as  all  vessels  are  made  of  in  this  country. 
Their  shape,  however,  differs  from  the  one  common 
now,  and  in  one  we  found  about  half  a  skull,  much 
worn  and  its  form  preserved  only  by  being  imbedded 
in  earth.  Several  teeth  and  remains  of  other  bones 
were  also  discovered.  We  had  two  or  three  Coolies  to 
work  for  us,  and  opened  four  more.  On  the  outside 
of  one  we  found  a  lot  of  vessels,  broken  and  whole,  of 
various  forms,  one  kind  a  very  graceful  cup,  not  unlike 
a  finger-bowl.  In  each  jar  we  found  several  vessels, 
and  alwavs  remains  of  bones,  thouo-h  almost  all  were 
undistinguishable  for  rottenness.  The  object  of  the  jars 
however  was  clear ;  the  place  was  a  burial-ground  and 
a  very  ancient  one  too.  No  one  now  can  tell  anything 
of  the  origin  of  the  jars.  The  people  say  that  formerly 
there  was  a  caste  that  did  not  die,  and  that  such  people 
were  placed  alive  in  these  jars,  with  a  little  rice  and 
water  in  the  cups.  Thirty  years  ago  there  was  a  for- 
est over  this  spot,  of  large  trees.  Whose  are  these 
remains  ?     I  suppose  they  are  allied  to  old  relics  found 


DAVID   COIT   SCUDDER.  383 

in  various  parts  of  the  Peninsula,  which  are  considered 
to  be  Buddhistic  remains.  But  that  is  all  I  can  say. 
The  Buddhists  were  expelled  from  the  country  a  thou- 
sand years  ago  or  so. 

[These  explorations  were  continued  in  various  quar- 
ters, and  a  general  interest  excited  among  the  mission- 
aries, when  suddenly,  to  David's  delight,  a  new  field  of 
exploration  came  into  knowledge  in  his  own  station.] 

[journal  letter.] 

Periakulam,  Nov.  3,  1862. 
I  have  been  quite  excited  to-day  and  may  be  more  so 
to-morrow.  You  know  that  I  have  been  a  good  deal 
interested  in  old  stones  and  mud,  and  have  been  mak- 
ing explorations  in  different  quarters.  Mr.  Webb  is  to 
excavate  in  Dindigal,  and  Washburn  writes  that  old 
cairns  have  turned  up  somewhere  in  his  station.  But 
I  have  them  nearer  home,  and  shall  not  have  to  go 
to  Dindigal  or  Mana  Madura  to  pursue  antiquarian 
researches.  The  other  day  I  found  an  old  mud  fort, 
and  near  it  a  lot  of  circles  of  rough  stones  correspond- 
ing precisely  to  those  found  in  Dindigal.  I  inquired 
about  them,  and  found  the  people  had  all  sorts  of  no- 
tions as  to  what  they  were.  I  inquired  of  Pastor  Sey- 
mour, and  he  knew  of  others,  and  told  me  what  the 
people  thought  of  them.  We  are  eighty  miles  from 
M^n^  Madura,  yet  the  same  stories  are  current  here 
that  we  heard  there :  that  formerly  the  people  lived  to 
a  great  age,  and  had  to  be  buried  alive  in  these  big 
pots.  They  were  giants  too.  Well,  I  sent  Seymour 
to  explore  this  morning  in  a  place  where  there  were 
said  to  be  some  of  these  pots.     He  came  back  about 


364  LIFE  AND  LETTERS   OF 

two  o'clock,  bringing  me  a  piece  of  iron  looking  much 
like  a  cleaver,  only  very  much  rust-eaten.  He  said  he 
had  found  pots  as  tall  as  his  head,  and  that  one  of  our 
church-members  had  ploughed  up  this  year  a  piece  of 
iron  like  a  sword,  and  had  seen  many  of  these  big  pots, 
but  they  were  broken  now.  He  said  too  that  circles 
of  stones  similar  to  those  found  near  here  were  there ; 
that  there  were  cromlechs  like  those  on  the  hills ;  and 
that  in  a  small  stone  house  the  man  had  found  a  pot- 
tery horse  of  very  neat  pattern,  much  above  the  style 
common  now.  The  whole  story  has  quite  woke  me 
up  ;  so  to-morrow  morning  early  I  propose  to  go  to  the 
spot,  close  to  the  foot  of  the  hills,  on  the  road  to  the 
tope,  and  see  for  myself.  They  say  that  they  find  the 
skull  in  a  basin  and  the  bones  arranged  around  it.  Is 
it  not  singular  that  all  throughout  this  district  such 
remains  should  be  found,  tellino;  us  of  a  race  inhabitino; 
the  country  differing  totally  in  their  modes  of  sepulture 
from  any  now  existing?  The  iron  instrument  which 
was  brought  me  is  the  first  thing  of  the  kind  found, 
and  I  hope  may  add  something  to  what  we  know  of 
such  matters. 

Nov.  7. 

I  have  spent  the  day  in  a  cromlech  !  So  you  must 
have  some  account  of  it.  Some  days  ago  I  was  at- 
tracted by  the  sight  of  some  circles  of  stone  along  the 
side  of  a  road  which  we  frequently  travel  upon.  I  sus- 
pected there  was  something  within  and  had  our  gar- 
dener dig  in  the  centre.  He  soon  struck  upon  a  slab. 
I  left  it  a  day  or  two,  but  yesterday  had  him  try  it 
again.  We  had  other  help,  and  soon  found  that  it  was 
hollow  below.  But  we  could  only  pry  off  a  small 
piece  of  a  slab  large  enough  to  let  me  in.     I  got  in 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  365 

and  found  myself  in  a  regular  cromlech  about  six  feet 
long  and  three  wide,  but  quite  choked  up  with  dirt. 
We  could  not  lift  up  the  larger  piece,  and  had  to  leave 
and  come  again  at  night  with  two  big  levers  and  ropes. 
This  was  last  night  while  I  had  my  catechists  here,  and 
they  helped  me.  We  dug  some  and  found  in  one  cor- 
ner a  potter's  vessel,  and  on  the  side  four.  It  w^as 
almost  dark,  so  w^e  covered  the  vessel  with  dirt  and 
came  home.  The  meeting  closed  yesterday.  So  to- 
day I  set  out  with  the  determination  of  giving  up  one 
day  to  antiquities.  I  went  out  about  six  with  a  gar- 
dener and  we  went  to  w^ork.  The  first  thino;  w^e  came 
to  of  interest  was  a  doorway  in  one  end,  that  is  a  round 
hole,  with  a  stone  set  up  against  it  outside.  I  hurrahed 
internally,  for  this  was  a  discovery.  It  corresponds 
precisely  with  cromlechs  found  upon  the  Nilagiris,  and 
which  I  have  never  seen  here.  It  is  supposed,  and  I 
think  with  good  reason,  that  these  are  tombs,  and  that 
the  hole  was  made  for  a  person  to  enter  and  deposit  the 
bodies  for  sepulture.  In  proof  of  this  are  the  con- 
tents of  the  tomb.  One  thing  after  another  turned  up, 
but  I  will  simply  state  what,  not  detailing  the  individ- 
ual things.  We  found  a  pot  on  four  legs,  a  remark- 
able affair.  The  chief  things  were  two  big  pots,  such 
as  I  described  before  as  containing  smaller  vessels,  ly- 
ing on  their  sides  facing  the  door.  In  the  rest  of  the 
room  were  fragments  of  pots  and  vessels  of  all  sorts, 
heaps  upon  heaps.  We  hardly  found  a  whole  one  there. 
We  did  however  secure  some,  and  of  different  patterns 
from  any  I  have  seen  before,  and  among  other  things 
some  covers  to  pots,  —  rare  things.  I  found  also  several 
iron  instruments,  but  they  were  too  far  gone  by  rust  to 
make  them  out.     Lastly  some  bones  made  their  ap- 


366  LIFE  AND  LETTERS   OF 

pearance.  I  think  there  were  bones  all  through  the  soil, 
but  crumbled  so  as  to  leave  only  a  white  powder.  We 
got  out  one  of  the  big  pots,  and  tying  it  to  two  beams, 
the  men,  some  half  dozen,  brought  it  home.  I  came 
home  late  to  breakfast,  and  returned  immediately  after, 
having  a  shady  place  under  ground.  I  stayed  until 
four,  eating  lunch  in  the  cromlech,  and  then  went  home 
to  dinner.  I  worked  hard  all  day  and  am  pretty  de- 
cidedly tired  to-night,  so  you  will  give  me  credit  for 
writing  at  once.  I  think  the  broken  pots,  etc.,  are 
evidences  that  the  place  is  a  family  tomb,  or  was,  and 
that  pots  were  broken  or  disarranged  by  persons  enter- 
ing to  make  fresh  deposits.  But  such  enormous  slabs 
of  stone !  The  room  faces  exactly  east,  and  the  slabs 
are  six  feet  thick  by  seven  or  eight  high ;  the  end  ones 
three  feet  wide  by  seven  high.  There  is  no  place  short 
of  a  mile  whence  they  could  have  been  brought. 


DAVID  COIT   SCUDDER.  367 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

LAST  LABORS  —  DEATH  AND  BURIAL. 
[October-November,  1862.] 

[to    HORACE    E.    SCUDDER.] 

Periakulam,  Oct.  16,  1862. 
....  I  FIND  that  it  won't  do  to  be  in  too  great  a 
hurrv.  As  I  was  feverish  with  haste  this  mornino;,  I 
took  up  a  httle  pocket  Proverbs  and  read,  "  Commit 
thy  works  unto  the  Lord,  and  thy  thoughts  shall  be 
established."  It  was  just  the  verse  for  me.  I  need 
to  cast  my  care  upon  Him  and  be  quiet.  But  you 
have  no  idea  of  the  multifarious  vexations  in  this  life, 
and  the  trouble  is  that  the  whole  matter  rests  upon 
you,  —  everybody  looks  to  you  for  what  they  shall  do, 
and  your  spirit  will  almost  necessarily  infuse  itself 
throughout.  One  requires  a  cheerful  piety  to  work 
steadily  among  this  people,  much  patience  to  wait  for 
good,  forbearance  with  individuals,  and  a  general  pur- 
pose to  take  things  happily,  no  matter  how  perverse 
they  may  appear. 

[journal  letter.] 

Periakulam,  Oct.  14. 
[Returning  from  a  tour  he  passed  the  night  at  An- 
dipatti.]  I  woke  rather  later  than  I  meant  to  be,  took 
my  tea  and  toast,  and  was  off  on  Burnside  for  home 
just  as  the  sun  rose.  Now  you  must  know  that  the 
rainy  season  has  fairly  set  in  and  our  rivers  rise  and 


863  LIFE  AND  LETTERS   OF 

fiill  without  warning.  I  left  home  Saturday  afternoon  ; 
in  crossing  the  river  by  our  house  I  got  my  feet  wet, 
the  water  being  up  to  the  horse's  girths.  Had  I  been 
half  an  hour  later  I  could  not  have  gone.  H.  tells  me 
that  the  workmen,  who  were  ploughing  our  ground, 
could  not  cross  to  go  to  the  yillage.  But  this  river  is 
a  small  branch  only  of  the  Vaikai  River,  which  has 
its  chief  source  way  down  in  Kambam  valley,  and 
passes  between  Andipatti  and  Periakulam.  On  Satur- 
day I  had  sent  the  bandy  ahead  in  the  morning,  with 
orders  to  return  and  wait  at  the  river  to  help  me  over. 
I  met  it  however  only  two  miles  from  home,  but  was 
reassured  when  the  man  told  me  that  thei'e  was  only  a 
little  water.  I  found  enough  however  to  wet  my  feet 
again.  The  Vaikai  River  is  three  times  as  wide  as 
ours.  This  mornino;  I  felt  a  little  misojivino;  as  to  how 
I  should  find  the  river,  but  pushed  ahead,  telling  the 
bandy  to  come  as  soon  as  it  could.  Half  a  mile  from 
it,  I  met  an  old  man,  who  did  not  comfort  me  any  by 
saying  that  there  was  a  lot  of  water  in  the  river.  As 
soon  as  I  cauo-ht  sio-ht  of  it  I  saw  it  was  true.  The 
water  was  red  with  mud  and  tore  along  at  a  furious 
rate.  Moreover  there  was  a  bandy  with  no  bullocks  by 
the  side,  and  it  did  not  need  the  word  of  two  or  three 
men  sitting  by  it  to  assure  me  that  it  was  "  no  go." 
But  I  put  on  a  bold  face  and  drove  Burnside  in. 
Down  he  went  over  my  shoes  at  the  first  step.  That 
would  not  do,  so  I  backed  out. 

I  called  a  council  of  war,  —  I  was  almost  half-way 
home  ;  the  sun  Avas  growing  hot ;  I  could  not  wait  for 
my  bandy,  and  if  I  did  it  would  not  help  me  much. 
If  I  waited  two  days,  possibly  the  water  would  not  fall ; 
so  in  less  time  than  I  have  taken  to  say  so,  I  decided 


DAVID  COIT   SCUDDER.  369 

that  there  was  only  one  thing  to  be  clone.  I  stripped, 
and  chirruping  to  Burnside,  stepped  in.  He  did  n't 
want  to  go,  but  after  drinking  a  little,  seemed  more 
favorably  disposed,  and  in  we  went.  I  never  was  in  a 
stronger  current,  and  the  water  up  to  my  chest.  But 
after  a  few  rods  the  water  was  lower,  and  we  stopped 
to  rest.  The  bottom  was  very  soft,  and  I  went  floun- 
dering along,  sticking  my  toes  into  the  mud  to  keep  a 
footing.  But  I  had  n't  gone  far  again  before  it  grew 
deeper,  and  almost  before  I  knew  it  I  was  rushing 
along  down-stream  at  a  jolly  rate,  old  Burnside  snort- 
ing, but  sticking  to  me.  A  dozen  or  two  of  hard 
strokes  gave  me  a  footing  again,  and  after  another 
stretch  of  wading  we  reached  the  shore.  I  tied  Burn- 
side to  a  tree  and  went  back  for  my  clothes.  I  had  to 
make  two  bundles  of  them,  to  tie  on  to  my  head,  and 
so  had  to  cross  twice  to  get  them.  The  last  time  I 
crossed  for  them,  I  was  pretty  thoroughly  used  up  and 
excited  the  sympathy  of  the  natives,  several  of  whom 
had  collected  to  see  the  performance.  I  should  have 
been  pushed  to  have  gone  over  again.  The  current 
was  very  strong  indeed,  but  had  I  not  been  in  India  a 
twelvemonth  it  would  not  have  been  a  touo;h  thino;  at 
all.  Here,  however,  we  have  no  extra  strength  of 
muscle  for  extraordinary  occasions.  I  did  not  succeed 
in  keeping  my  clothes  wholly  dry,  though  th«  men  tied 
my  bundle  on  my  head  quite  artistically,  but  a  little 
water  was  no  harm  on  a  hot  morning.  Mounting,  I 
urged  Burnside  on  as  rapidly  as  possible,,  as  the  sun 
was  becoming  decidedly  uncomfortable,  and  I  had  seven 
more  miles  to  go.  I  had  a  pleasant  ride  until  within^ 
half  a  mile  of  home,  when  the  roar  of  a  tank-dam^  or 
rather  the  waterfall,  told  me  that  I  might  have  trouble 

24 


370  LIFE  AND  LETTERS   OF 

in  getting  over  our  river.  Sure  enough,  it  was  as  high 
as  it  well  could  be.  I  called  to  the  horse-keeper  and 
the  servants,  and  then  Mr.  Noyes  and  H.  came  down, 
but  they  could  not  help  me  a  bit ;  so  not  caring,  as  I 
was  at  home,  about  apparel,  I  let  Burnside  graze  and 
jumped  in  as  I  was,  much  to  the  concern  of  our  worthy 
gardener.  The  river,  though  narrower,  proved  to  be 
deeper  than  the  other,  and  I  had  to  swim  fully  as  much. 
Mr.  Noyes's  horse-keeper  could  swim,  the  only  one  on 
the  ground,  and  he  took  a  rope  and  made  out  to  get 
Burnside  over.  So  we  have  had  a  bit  of  excitement 
without  any  harm  to  anybody.  H.  says  the  storm  here 
last  night  exceeded  in  severity  any  that  we  have  had 
before.  One  consequence  is  that  a  big  tank  above 
broke  loose,  and  it  is  this  that  has  forced  the  river  so 
full.  Communication  with  the  hills  is  broken  off,  and 
the  road  is  flooded. 

[Some  idea  of  the  suddenness  and  violence  of  this 
rise  in  the  river  may  be  formed  from  the  fact  that 
frequently  of  two  bandies  attempting  to  cross,  one 
would  get  safely  across  and  the  other  have  to  wait, 
and  that  cattle,  and  often  people  are  swept  away  by  the 
violence  of  the  flood.  What  was  before  but  the  bed 
of  a  stream  with  a  narrow,  sluggish  current,  becomes 
in  a  few  hours  a  wild,  roaring  river,  impassable  except 
for  the  most  venturesome.  So  sudden  is  the  descent 
of  an  increased  volume  of  water  that  it  can  be  likened 
to  nothing  but  another  river  precipitated  over  the  pre- 
vious stream.     To  resume  the  journal.] 

Oct.  17. 
The  river  is  down   again.     It  has  been  raining  on 


DAVID  COIT   SCUDDER.  371 

the  mountains  west  of  us  all  day,  and  their  summits 
have  been  as  dark  as  night.  About  dinner-time  the 
flood  came.  I  ran  out  to  see  it,  and  H.,  baby,  and  I 
had  a  nice  time  walkino;  alono;  the  bank,  seeing  the 
water  rush  by,  and  watching  the  servants  catch  the 
wood  that  floated  down.  They  picked  up  enough  fire- 
wood to  last  a  couple  of  months.  It  Is  astonishing  how 
quickly  the  torrent  comes,  we  are  so  close  to  the  moun- 
tains. The  flood  has  brouo;ht  somethino;  else  than  tim- 
ber  to  us.  While  I  write,  Manuel  the  catechlst  is  on 
the  veranda  preaching  to  one  hundred  people,  sitting 
on  It,  who  have  been  caught  by  the  river  and  forced  to 
spend  the  night  here.  They  belong  two  miles  away, 
and  came  this  morning  to  their  work  at  the  base  of  the 
mountains.  Quite  an  unexpected  audience  for  us. 
You  can  judge  of  the  capacity  of  our  veranda,  when 
I  tell  you  that  it  is  not  a  quarter  full. 

Oct.  22. 
I  came  home  last  night  from  a  visit  to  Dindigal, 
where  I  assisted  at  the  dedication  of  Mr.  Webb's  new 
church.  .  .•  .  .  When  I  came  to  the  river,  there  was  a 
scene :  one  bandy  was  capsized  in  the  middle  of  the 
rushing  stream,  and  the  men  were  tugging  away  to  get 
it  out.  The  swimmers  were  reaping  a  harvest  by  tak- 
ing over  bundles,  and  persons  too,  for  a  cent  apiece. 
On  the  opposite  bank  was  Mr.  White's  empty  bandy 
coming  from  our  house  to  Pulney,  and  I  watched  to 
see  how  it  would  come  over.  They  took  out  the  bul- 
locks and  then  pushed  the  bandy  over.  It  came  out 
full  of  water  and  I  began  to  make  up  my  mind  for  a 
ducking  and  possible  upset.  So  I  took  out  the  mat- 
tress  and  valise   and   stuck  my  shoes  out  of  water's 


372  LIFE   AND   LETTERS   OF 

reach.  Then  straddling,  standing  upright,  I  gave  the 
word  and  in  we  went,  a  dozen  men  hauling  and  shov- 
ing, calling  on  their  gods  and  laboring  as  if  it  were  a 
case  of  life  and  death.  Half  the  number  would  have 
done  as  well.  The  water  came  high  enough  to  wet  my 
feet  and  lift  up  the  straw ;  but  beyond  that  no  harm 
was  done,  and  after  giving  the  men  a  cent  apiece  we 
drove  on. 

....  On  the  way  home  I  saw  a  temple  on  the 
road-side,  and  opposite  it  a  stone.  A  man  said  that  long 
ago  for  some  reason  a  man  and  his  wife  died  together. 
Now  the  people  worship  them  ;  the  stone  was  the  man, 
the  image  in  the  temple  the  woman.  This  custom  is 
confined  to  one  caste 

[to    CHARLES    W.    SCUDDER.] 

Periakulam,  Oct.  29,  1862. 
....  Within  these  few  days  I  have  been  very  much 
depressed  about  this  people.  Oh,  my  dear  brother,  if 
you  could  come  here  and  see  one  woman,  —  any  one, 
and  see  in  her  the  picture  of  the  condition  of  this  peo- 
ple !  It  is  awful,  awful.  The  mass  of  the  people  live 
and  die  like  swine,  and  the  higher  classes  are  utter- 
ly sealed  against  the  truth.  What  power  can  break 
through  ?  As  soon  as  the  rains  are  over  I  hope  to 
organize  a  system  of  preaching,  but  oh  for  piety !  love 
to  Jesus !  the  only  thing  that  can  give  me  courage  to 
face  a  sneering  crowd,  a  callous  crowd.  Pray  much 
for  me. 

[journal  letter.] 

Nov.  3. 

....  Our  days  pass  very  uniformly  now.  We  are 
in  the  rainy  season,  and  consequently  somewhat  con- 


DAVID   COIT   SCUDDER.  373 

fined.  I  cannot  easily  tour,  and  even  going  to  the 
town  is  a  matter  of  no  little  trouble,  as  I  have  two 
streams  to  cross,  each  of  which  is  up  to  the  saddle- 
girths.  I  have  not  really  preached  but  once  or  twice 
in  the  town  since  I  have  lived  here.  I  am  to  blame. 
A  feeling  of  dread  has  prevented  me,  knowing  that  the 
people  are  less  ignorant,  and  consequently  more  rude, 
than  in  the  villages.  Most  of  my  preaching  here  has 
been  in  the  various  hamlets  about.  But  I  hope  by 
God's  grace  to  do  differently,  and,  as  soon  as  the 
weather  moderates,  to  set  going  a  systematic  mode  of 
operation,  by  which  the  town  and  neigliboring  villages 
shall  be  effectually  reached.  I  am  quite  busv  now  over 
an  enlargement  of  the  government  map  tliat  used  to 
hang  in  my  room  at  home.  How  I  should  have  stud- 
ied my  field  then,  could  I  have  foreseen  what  it  w^as  to 
be.  I  am  enlarging  it  fourfold,  making  it  on  the  scale 
of  a  mile  to  an  inch,  so  that  every  little  village  can  be 
down  and  named.  It  will  be  a  capital  thing  for  me, 
and  for  any  who  may  come  after  me.  Oh,  for  help  to 
be  faithful  the  little  while  that  I  shall  be  here.  I  was 
thinking  yesterday  evening,  while  walking  on  top  of 
the  house,  of  the  kind  of  preaching  that  was  required 
here,  and  it  occurred  to  me  that  I  had  not  given  God's 
truth  the  credit  of  being  mighty  enough  to  pull  down 
these  strongholds.  I  have  thought  of  the  doctrine  of 
the  cross  as  foolishness  to  this  proud  people,  and  have 
perhaps  unconsciously  wished  to  gloss  it  over  with  soft 
words  that  it  might  not  offend.  But  I  begin  to  see  that 
I  ought  to  be  willing  to  trust  the  bare,  strong  truth  to 
make  its  own  w^ay,  —  the  naked  truth  that  all  have 
sinned  and  come  short  of  the  glory  of  God,  and  that 
there  is  salvation  in  none  other  than  Christ  Jesus :  this 


374  LIFE  AND   LETTERS   OF 

it  is  which  is  mighty  through  God.  I  think  I  see  now 
that  my  duty  is  to  preach  the  doctrine  boldly  to  all, 
and  leave  it  to  work  its  own  fruit  through  the  Spirit 
of  God.  A  missionary,  if  he  believes^  will  feel  himself 
on  a  platform  so  infinitely  above  all  cavilling  that  the 
reproach  or  ridicule  or  indifference  of  men  to  whom 
he  proclaims  his  message  will  excite  only  compassion, 
never  shame.  Yes,  we  need  to  believe  more  in  the 
power  of  the  gospel. 

Periakulam,  Nov.  11. 

You  will  want  to  know  the  dark  as  well  as  the  bright 
sides  of  my  life,  that  you  may  sympathize  with  me  in 
all  things.  I  have  been  feeling  very  sadly  for  a  few- 
days  past  about  my  congregation,  and  I  must  tell  you 
why.  Last  Sunday  we  had  communion  in  the  village 
church.  The  river  had  been  down  in  the  night,  but 
there  was  not  too  much  water  to  prevent  my  riding 
through.  I  went  down  with  a  heavy  heart,  for  it  had 
been  decided  that  one  of  the  deacons  should  be  sus- 
pended if  he  w^ould  not  acknowledge  his  fault.  He  was 
not  at  church.  Only  a  few  persons  were  there  when  I 
reached  the  church,  and  I  sat  down  waiting  for  them 
to  come.  One  man  came  to  the  door,  and  then  stopped 
and  turned  round  to  talk  very  loudly  with  some 
heathen  outside.  He  was  with  difficult}^  induced  to 
be  quiet,  but  came  in,  sat  down,  prayed  as  usual,  and 
afterward  received  the  Sacrament.  While  waiting,  my 
munshi  came  up  to  me,  and  said  that  there  had  been  a 
fearful  quarrel  there  the  night  before,  on  account  of 
which  many  had  gone  to  court. 

My  heart  sank  within  me,  and  as  I  looked  around 
upon  the  little  congregation  and  felt  how  very,  very 


DAVID  COIT   SCUDDER.  375 

low  the  people  were,  I  wondered  when  their  day  of 
reo-eneration  would  come.  But  even  then  the  thought 
came  into  my  mind  that  Christ  had  some  souls  there 
true  to  Him,  and  that  He  had  undoubtedly  had  to  bear 
with  me  on  account  of  faihngs  of  far  greater  moment 
than  those  that  caused  me  anxiety  here.  But  the  peo- 
ple had  mostly  come,  and  after  opening  the  service, 
the  pastor  briefly  stated  the  case  of  the  deacon  as  known 
to  them,  and  said  that  it  seemed  necessary  to  suspend 
him,  asking  what  they  had  to  say.  One  man  only 
spoke,  saying  simply  that  they  must  do  as  I  said,  but  I 
believe  he  did  not  speak  complainingly.  I  then  read  a 
part  of  the  first  two  chapters  of  First  Peter,  and  showed 
what  the  people  of  God  should  be,  holy  ;  but  that  we 
must  not  judge  that  he  who  was  to  be  suspended  was 
the  greatest  sinner  amongst  us.     You  know  that  the 

old  feud  was  between  the  two  deacons I  have 

no  doubt  that  the  remaining:  deacon  ouo;ht  to  be  sus- 
pended  also,  and  I  fear  excommunicated,  but  there  is 
nothing  upon  which  I  can  lay  my  hand  as  punishable. 
But  what  a  state  of  things !  The  quarrel  that  I  re- 
ferred to  was  between  a  member  of  the  congregation 
and  his  wife.  He  dragged  her  about  by  her  hair  and 
beat  her.  Her  father  took  her  part,  a  crowd  gathered 
and  an  officer  was  called.     I  believe  he  will  be  fined 

by  the  church The  affair  has  been  settled,  and 

to-day  his  wife  has  returned  to  his  house,  having  been 
absent  nearly  a  month  from  his  ill-usage  of  her.  Her 
father  is  a  church-member  and  the  head  man  of  the 
church,  and  Sunday  he  would  not  come  to  communion 
because  he  said  he  was  angry.  My  poor  people !  I 
would  do  anything  for  them,  but  oh,  what  can  I  do  ? 
....  I  was  going  to  Andipatti  to-morrow,  but  I  learn 


376  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

that  the  river  is  down,  and  I  don't  want  to  have  an- 
other swim  just  now. 


With  these  words  his  journal  ends.  The  narrative 
of  mj  brother's  life,  which  I  have  gladly  given  through 
his  own  words  since  his  arrival  in  India,  returns  to  me  ; 
a  few  pages  only  remain,  and  the  reader  will  pardon 
me  if  I  assume  in  one  who  has  read  thus  far  an  inter- 
est which  will  linger  over  the  last  days  of  one  of  the 
noblest  of  men,  the  best  of  brothers.  For  what  follows 
I  am  chiefly  indebted  to  Mr.  Washburn,  who  collected 
the  facts  with  care ;  other  letters  also  and  the  simple 
words  of  David's  native  helpers  serve  to  complete  the 
account. 

On  Sunday  the  16th  of  November  he  preached  in 
the  village  church,  and  after  service  began  to  visit  all 
the  Christian  families,  in  accordance  with  a  plan  pre- 
viously proposed,  calling  at  four  houses  and  praying 
with  the  inmates ;  in  the  afternoon  he  visited  also  the 
Sunday-school  in  the  mission  compound.  He  had  been 
intending  the  previous  week  to  visit  Andipatti,  but  the 
swollen  rivers  had  decided  him  to  postpone  the  tour. 
It  was  now,  however,  quite  imperative  that  he  should 
not  longer  defer  it.  He  was  about  preparing  his  an- 
nual report  of  the  station,  and  wished  to  secure  further 
details  respecting  the  state  of  schools  and  congrega- 
tions ;  moreover  the  wife  of  one  of  his  catechists  was 
dangerously  ill,  and  he  wished  to  see  her.  So,  though 
reluctant  to  go,  he  decided  it  to  be  his  duty,  and  pre- 
pared to  leave  on  Monday,  expecting  to  return  on 
Wednesday.  He  rode  early  in  the  morning  to  the  vil- 
lage to  do  what  he  could  in  settHng  the  quarrel  which 


DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER.  377 

has  been  mentioned  in  his  journal.  He  was  occupied 
a  long  time,  and  came  home  not  far  from  ten  o'clock  to 
breakfast.  He  was  busy  packing  for  the  journey, 
expecting  to  leave  by  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  ;  but 
the  bullocks  did  not  come  until  four  o'clock,  when  he 
set  out.  It  will  be  remembered  that  a  little  stream 
runs  back  of  the  house ;  the  bandy  in  which  he  was  to 
travel  could  not  cross  here  owing  to  the  steepness  of 
the  opposite  bank  ;  it  was  sent  round  by  another  way, 
and  David  was  carried  across  the  stream  by  the  two 
gardeners.  His  wife,  bearing  the  little  child  in  her 
arms,  came  to  the  bank  and  waited  for  ten  minutes 
until  the  bandy  should  arrive,  when  both  bade  him 
good-bye,  watched  the  bandy  till  it  was  out  of  sight, 
and  returned  to  the  house. 

David  proceeded  to  Andipatti,  ten  miles  distant, 
crossing  the  intervening  Vaikai  River,  and  reaching  the 
town  at  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening ;  after  tea  and 
prayer  with  the  catechist  he  went  to  sleep.  Early  on 
Tuesday  morning  he  went  out  to  a  village  with  the 
catechist  to  preach,  and  after  breakfast  examined  the 
school,  when  he  made  the  children,  who  met  him  with 
great  affection,  run  round  him  in  a  circle  for  a  frolic, 
giving  plantains  to  those  who  did  it  well.  He  held  no 
other  meetings  during  the  day,  and  his  attention  was 
given  to  his  cook-boy,  who  had  been  taken  ill.  As 
evenincT  came  on  two  or  three  catechists  and  teachers 
came  into  the  church  where  he  was  staying,  and  he 
spent  the  time  in  conversation  with  them.  He  had 
been  visiting  and  conversing  during  the  day  with  the 
catechist's  wife  who  was  very  sick,  and  the  conversation 
naturally  turned  upon  death,  and  he  asked  the  cate- 
chist what  were  his  feelings,  now  that  he  was  brought 


£78  LIFE  AND  LETTERS   OF 

face  to  face  with  death  and  compelled  to  contemplate 
it  every  day.  From  this  their  talk  turned  upon  the 
resurrection  and  immortality,  as  set  forth  in  the  first 
epistles  to  the  Corinthians  and  to  the  Thessalonians. 

The  catechist,  in  his  narration  of  these  scenes  after- 
ward, dwelt  with  a  fond  interest  upon  each  little  point. 
He  told  how,  in  attempting  to  flatten  a  large  Scripture 
placard,  David  laid  it  down  and  put  his  foot  on  it, 
when  the  scrupulous  teacher  reproved  him  with  the 
question,  "  Sir,  may  one  put  his  foot  upon  the  word  of 
God  ? "  and  "  then,"  said  the  catechist,  "  we  talked 
much,  and  he  thought  much  within  himself,  for  past 
one  o'clock  he  called  out  to  the  teacher  sleeping  near, 
'  You  say  it  is  not  right  to  put  your  foot  on  that  pla- 
card, but  you  have  got  the  Bible  tliere  for  your  pillow,* 
showino-  that  he  had  been  thinkino;  much  about  what 
we  had  been  talking  of." 

He  rose  early  on  Wednesday  morning  and  proceeded 
to  Maniakarampatti,  a  village  a  mile  and  a  half  distant, 
where  was  a  congregation.  Here  he  preached  upon 
the  healing  of  the  nobleman's  son,  the  same  sermon 
which  he  had  preached  the  Sabbath  before  in  the  vil- 
lage church.  He  breakfasted,  collected  the  statistics 
for  which  he  had  visited  the  place,  and  then  hurried  his 
things  into  the  bandy,  wishing  to  cross  the  river  and 
return  to  Periukulam  without  further  delay  ;  no  doubt 
he  had  some  anxiety  about  the  river,  as  the  weather 
during  his  absence  had  been  of  the  most  comfortless 
sort ;  rain  had  fallen  on  the  hills,  and  Tuesday  night 
it  had  rained  uninterruptedly.  No  wonder  he  made 
haste,  since  the  delay  of  an  hour  or  two  might  prevent 
him  from  crossing  the  river,  and  keep  him  in  restless 
inactlvitv  at  Andii)atti.     The  catechists  endeavored  to 


DAVID   COIT   SCUDDER.  379 

dissuade  him  from  setting  out,  telling  him  that  they 
had  heard  from  many  persons  that  tliere  was  much 
water  in  the  river,  but  David  knew  that  the  difficulty 
of  the  passage  would  seem  more  formidable  to  the 
natives  than  to  him ;  he  finally  said,  "  If  there  really  is 
a  heavy  flood,  as  you  say,  I  will  return  to  Andipatti." 

Leaving  the  bandy  to  follow,  he  set  out  on  foot ;  one 
of  the  catechists  and  a  church-member  accompanied 
him,  and  they  reached  the  river  about  one  o'clock. 
His  plan  was  to  do  as  he  had  several  times  lately  done, 
to  swim  the  river,  trusting  to  meet  his  horse  on  the 
other  side,  which  indeed  was  sent,  as  It  proved,  and  at 
any  rate  to  be  able  to  reach  Periakulam,  only  five  or 
six  miles  distant,  long  before  his  bandy,  which  would 
have  to  wait.  He  rested  until  the  bandy  came  up,  and 
lunched,  for  he  had  a  somewhat  arduous  walk  before 
him.  The  river  was  rising,  and  indeed  was  higher  than 
he  had  known  it.  The  catechist  begged  him  not  to  go, 
but  he  remembered  that  he  had  often  crossed  when  it 
was  called  impassable,  and  had  not  long  before  made 
three  transits,  when  he  led  his  horse  and  carried  his 
clothes.  Time  was  precious  to  him,  and  if  he  waited 
at  all  it  would  likely  enough  be  for  two  or  three  days, 
making  him  miss  the  mail  and  deranging  his  plans 
greatly.  He  felt  no  misgivings,  saying  to  the  catechist, 
"  I  have  swum  two  miles  in  the  ocean  and  I  will  try." 
But  he  must  have  his  clothes  and  his  papers,  as  he 
would  have  to  walk  home,  or  till  he  met  his  horse,  and 
the  bandy  might  not  reach  him  for  several  days.  So 
he  removed  and  adjusted  his  clothes,  untying  and  tying 
them  ao-ain  until  he  had  arranged  them  so  as  least  to 
impede  the  movement  of  his  arms.  He  placed  the 
papers  in  his  hat  and  secured  it  to  his  head. 


380  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

He  went  a  little  above  the  regular  ford,  to  a  place 
where  a  brook  makes  into  the  river,  in  order  to  take 
advantage  of  the  current,  waded  out  some  distance 
into  the  stream,  and  struck  out  boldly.  The  river  is 
about  a  hundred  yards  wide  at  this  place,  and  he  had 
swum  easily  about  half  the  distance,  when  suddenly 
the  bystanders  on  the  bank  saw,  as  it  were,  a  new 
river  upon  the  top  of  this  swift  current  come  down  like 
a  wall,  overwhelming  him ;  a  tank  above  had  given 
way,  and  the  volume  of  water  to  the  depth  of  several 
feet  had  rushed  vehemently  down  the  stream,  carrying 
everything  with  it.  No  strength  of  man  could  with- 
stand the  force,  and  the  swimmer  was  carried  under. 
He  rose  again,  freed  from  encumbrance,  but  there  was 
no  exertion.  He  floated  swiftly  down  the  stream,  his 
upturned  face  alone  visible;  soon  nothing  was  to  be 
seen  but  the  turbid  water. 

The  catechist,  servant,  and  other  bystanders  stood 
for  the  first  moment  terrified  on  the  shore,  then  rushed 
along  the  bank  beyond  where  anything  was  visible,  yet 
hoping  that  the  flood  would  throw  him  on  shore  at  a 
bend  in  the  river,  thirty  or  forty  rods  below.  They 
were  suddenly  arrested  by  one  of  the  hill  torrents  cre- 
ated by  the  sudden  rains.  They  had  already  passed 
through  a  village  in  their  pursuit,  and  were  joined  by 
the  villagers,  who  were  aroused  by  the  tidings  that  a 
white  man  had  gone  down  the  stream.  The  Chris- 
tians turned  back  with  heavy  hearts ;  they  could  not 
cross  to  carry  tidings  to  Periakulam  and  they  went 
back  to  Andipatti,  to  resume  the  search  immediately, 
following  the  river  down  for  thirty  miles. 

It  was  on  the  day  following  only  that  word  could  be 
got  to  Periakulam.     Mrs.  Scudder  had  twice  sent  the 


DAVID   COIT   SCUDDER.  381 

horse-keeper  with  the  horse  in  expectation  of  her  hus- 
band's return,  and  had  waited  breakfast.  About  one 
o'clock  there  was  a  hurried  passing  to  and  fro  among 
the  servants.  She  went  to  the  veranda  and  saw  by 
their  faces  that  sometliins:  was  wrono;.  Slie  asked  the 
matter,  and,  dumb  at  first,  one  at  last  said,  "  Master 
has  gone  down  the  river,"  and  that  a  note  was  waiting 
for  her  at  the  police  station.  She  said  aloud  that  it 
could  not  be,  and  sent  the  servants  away,  one  for  the 
note,  another  for  the  Madura  collector  who  was  in 
town,  with  the  word  that  "Master  must  be  brouo-ht 
back  if  he  could  not  come."  Two  hours  of  suspense 
and  the  note  came,  a  Tamil  one,  which  the  munshi  with 
great  difficulty  read  aloud  into  English.  All  doubt  was 
gone ;  it  must  be  so.  She  despatched  notes  to  Mr. 
Noyes,  who  was  on  the  Hills,  to  come  to  her,  to  Mr. 
Washburn,  at  Battalagundu,  and  to  Mr.  Rendall,  at 
Madura,  to  do  what  was  possible. 

Thursday  night  passed,  and  on  the  afternoon  follow- 
ing Mr.  Noyes  reached  Periakulam,  and  was  followed 
by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Washburn  a  few  hours  later.  The 
collector  had  given  orders  that  a  watch  should  be  kept, 
and  a  search  made  for  forty  miles  down  the  river.  The 
members  of  the  church  with  their  pastor  also  volun- 
teered to  go,  and  the  catechists  and  Christians  upon 
the  other  bank  were  equally  zealous.  The  news  passed 
through  the  district  very  rapidly,  reaching  at  once  the 
various  mission  stations.  Yet  all  this  was  with  little 
hope  of  recovering  the  remains.  The  flood  that  over- 
whelmed him  had  brought  down  vast  quantities  of 
sand,  and  given  reason  to  believe  that  even  in  the  mo- 
ment of  his  death  God  had  buried  him. 

The  days  wore  away.     On  the  Sabbath  the  mission- 


882  LIFE  AND  LETTERS   OF 

aries  and  the  native  Christians  assembled  in  the  com- 
pound church  and  listened  to  words  of  comfort  and 
exhortation,  comfort  to  all,  though  spoken  in  a  language 
unknown  to  the  chief  mourner.  On  Monday  before 
light  came  Mrs.  Webb  from  Dindigal,  having  set  out 
on  receiving  the  news.  The  morning  passed  ;  at  one 
o'clock  came  a  note  from  the  Battalagundu  catechist, 
saying  "  Mr.  Scudder's  body  just  now  came  from  Sola- 
vanthan.  I  hired  two  bullocks  and  sent  it  this  morn- 
ino;  at  nine  o'clock.  I  think  they  will  make  some 
delay  on  the  road.  It  is  better,  I  think,  if  you  please, 
to  send  two  pairs  of  bullocks  from  Periakulam.  The 
head-constable  of  Solavanthan  and  a  catechist  came 
along  with  the  bandy."  There  could  be  no  doubt  about 
this,  though  many  false  reports  had  repeatedly  come. 
Solavanthan  was  forty  miles  from  Periakulam,  and  the 
turbulent  river  had  carried  the  body  there,  where  it 
was  discovered  on  Sunday  morning,  floating  in  the 
stream,  and  taken  in  charge  by  the  police  stationed  at 
the  spot,  who  took  measures  to  bring  it  ashore  and  con- 
vey it  to  his  home. 

At  five  o'clock  the  bandy  drove  into  the  gate,  but 
though  the  form  could  be  distino-uished  beneath  the 
white  cloth,  there  could  be  no  sight  of  the  face. 
Preparations  were  concluded  for  burial,  and  on  Tues- 
day morning  early,  the  company  gathered  upon  the 
veranda,  the  burial-service  was  read,  and  the  Divine 
assistance  was  invoked  upon  the  burial,  which  was  to 
be  upon  the  summit  of  the  Pulneys.  "  The  sun  was 
just  rising,"  writes  Mr.  Washburn,  ''  when  we  mounted 
our  horses  and  started  forth.  I  need  not  linger  by  the 
way.  Yet  I  seemed,  as  I  rode  up  that  zigzag  path,  to 
hear  the  voice  that   shouted  welcome  to  me  when  I 


DAVID   COIT   SCUDDER.  383 

last  ascended,  but  now  it  came  not  from  Pilliyar  Suttu, 
but  from  heights  which  foot  of  flesh  and  blood  had  never 
trod,  and  the  voice  was  not  now  one  of  welcome,  but 
those  apostolic  words,  —  '  Seeing  therefore  we  are  sur- 
rounded by  so  great  a  cloud  of  witnesses,  let  us  lay  aside 
every  weight  and  the  sin  that  doth  so  easily  beset  us, 
and  let  us  run  with  patience  the  race  that  is  set  before 
us.' 

*'  We  reached  Kodi  Kanal  at  two  o'clock ;  we  were 
our  own  heralds,  but  our  coming  at  once  announced 
our  errand.  We  rode  by  the  east  house,  past  Nebo, 
past  Rock  Cottage  of  pleasant  memories,  and  down  the 
woody  pathway  to  the  church,  and  across  the  church- 
yard to  its  western  side.  There,  within  the  church- 
yard, just  behind  the  church,  is  a  warm  living  hill-side 
of  yellow  mould  ;  a  pleasant  path  bordered  by  a  hedge 
of  roses  separates  the  church-yard  from  the  overhang- 
ing -woods.  A  beautiful  rhododendron  stands  there, 
leaning  to  the  east,  and  beneath  its  shade  was  with- 
out doubt  the  place  for  the  grave  of  our  most  precious 
one,  —  far  enough  from  the  main  path  to  the  church 
to  be  beyond  intrusion  or  common  gaze,  yet  near 
enough  for  those  who  wish  to  frequent  it,  to  be 
reminded  of  him  and  to  blend  his  memory  with  the 
worship  of  the  place. 

"  It  was  nearly  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  before 
the  bearers  were  announced  as  up  the  Hill.  As  I 
again  returned  from  the  east  house,  I  stopped  and 
looked  down  upon  the  plain  below.  The  rain  had 
passed,  the  sun  was  shining  mellow  and  invitingly 
upon  the  bungalow  and  all  that  region.  It  was  all 
beautiful  beyond  description.  It  seemed  to  me  a  token 
that  comfort,  not  to   say  joy,  had  again  visited  those 


384  LIFE  AND  LETTERS   OF 

stricken  ones.  I  had  not  been  long  in  the  church- 
yard, whither  I  had  gone  to  attend  to  the  last  details, 
when  sounds  announced  the  approach  of  the  Coolies, 
but  they  were  not  the  chant  of  the  bearers.  It  was 
the  sound  of  continued  music,  as  the  people  came  down 
the  hill-side,  through  the  grove,  over  the  knoll,  — now 
swelling  out,  now  dying  away,  and  again  breaking 
forth  into  the  words  of  Christian  song  as  they  ap- 
proached. A  bend  in  the  path  discovered  the  cat- 
echist,  servants,  and  Christians  in  decent  procession 
before  the  bearers,  singing. 

"  It  was  a  spontaneous  outflowing  of  all  that  was 
Christian  in  them,  the  song  of  victory  which  Chris- 
tianity alone  can  inspire.  Such  a  triumphal  procession 
through  the  long  ages  those  hills  had  never  witnessed. 
Alas !  India  raises  only  wails  and  clamor  alike  around 
the  funeral  pile  of  the  twice-born  and  the  grave  of  the 
Pariah. 

"  Mr.  White,  who  had  just  arrived  on  the  Hills  in 
anticipation  of  our  coming,  Mr.  Noyes  and  his  son, 
two  English  gentlemen  residing  there,  myself,  and  a 
large  company  of  natives  gathered  around  the  sacred 
spot  and  under  the  sound  of  the  church-bell ;  with  the 
decencies  of  burial  in  our  own  native  land,  and  with 
the  words  with  which  millions  have  been  laid  to  sleep, 
we  consigned  dust  to  dust  and  ashes  to  ashes,  in  sure 
hope  of  the  resurrection  to  eternal  life  through  Jesus 
Christ  our  Lord.  And  so  our  precious,  cherished  work 
was  done. 

"  The  next  morning  very  early  I  returned  to  take 
another  look  at  that  spot  and  to  gather  a  few  flowers 
as  mementos  for  those  who  were  not  there.  The  old 
rhododendron-tree  seemed  to  me  to  have  accepted  the 


DAVID   COIT   SCUDDER.  385 

guardianship  of  the  spot,  and  had  already  begun  to 
shed  its  wreath  of  gorgeous  flaming  flowers  around  and 
upon  the  grave.  I  gathered  a  few  flowers  and  came 
away,  not  to  leave  it  alone,  but  in  charge  of  Him 
who  shall  change  our  vile  bodies  that  they  may  be  fash- 
ioned like  unto  His  glorious  body." 

Over  that  quiet  grave  stands  now  a  memorial  stone, 
bearing  upon  its  face  this  inscription,  — 

DAVID  COIT  SCUDDER. 

"he  leadeth  me  beside  the  still  waters." 

and  on  the  reverse,  his  office,  the  dates  of  his  birth, 
landing  at  Madras,  and  death. 


25 


386  LIFE  AND   LETTERS   OF 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

CONCLUSIOI^. 

As  soon  as  the  necessary  arrangements  could  be 
made,  Mrs.  Scudder  and  her  child  left  Periakulam  for 
Madras,  on  their  way  to  America,  taking  ship  to  Eng- 
land and  reaching  Boston  in  May.  It  need  not  be 
told  with  what  affectionate  care  they  were  sent  on  their 
way  and  accompanied  by  the  various  members  of  the 
Madura  Mission.  That  little  community,  separated 
from  other  society,  was  united  by  the  closest  ties,  and 
when  one  member  suffered,  all  the  members  suffered. 
It  was  with  sad  hearts  that  they  returned  to  their 
appointed  work,  leaving  one  whom  they  had  so  lately 
and  with  such  fond  expectation  welcomed  to  their 
number  in  his  grave  on  the  Pulneys,  and  bidding 
farewell  to  another,  more  closely  joined  to  them  now 
by  this  recent  sorrow.  It  may  be  judged  how  these 
missionaries,  with  their  strong  desire  for  the  salvation 
of  India,  would  mourn  the  loss  of  one  possessed  of 
such  abihty,  and  giving  promise  of  so  great  usefulness. 
From  every  one  came  the  sorrowful  word  —  why  was 
it  he  ?  One  after  another  bore  testimony  spontane- 
ously to  his  worth  and  attainments.  One,  out  of  the 
mission,  who  is  recognized  as  the  leading  scholar  of 
Southern  India,  wrote  to  a  friend :  "  I  met  him  twice 
in  the  beginning  of  the  year,  and  corresponded  with 
him  a  little,  and  it  was  my  impression  that  he  was  the 
best  prepared  and  most  learned  young  missionary  that 


DAVID   COIT   SCUDDER.  oSi 

had  ever  come  out  to  Southern  India ;  but  it  is  delight- 
ful to  perceive,  from  the  manner  in  which  his  mission- 
ary colleagues  write  of  him,  that  those  who  knew  him 
best  entertained  as  high  an  opinion  of  his  Christian 
simplicity  and  missionary  zeal  as  I,  who  had  but  slight 
acquaintance  with  him,  entertained  of  his  scholarship." 
And  another,  also  out  of  the  Madura  circle,  who  occu- 
pies perhaps  the  foremost  place  among  American  mis- 
sionaries in  India,  by  his  learning,  his  eloquence,  and 
his  missionary  ardor,  wrote,  on  hearing  of  the  death, 
"  Kneeling  down  I  have  prayed  that  his  mantle  may 
fall  upon  me." 

David  loved  the  native  Christians ;  he  took  a  very 
favorable  view  of  Hindu  character,  and  declared  that 
he  enjoyed  Christian  intercourse  with  his  catechists  as 
much  as  he  had  with  friends  at  home.  His  ardent  and 
affectionate  concern  for  those  about  him  could  not  fail 
to  impress  them,  and  children  especially  reciprocated 
his  affection.  He  lived  long  enough  with  a  few  Hindus 
to  become  intimately  acquainted  with  them  and  to 
leave  a  strong  impression  of  his  own  character  upon 
them.  The  pastor  of  the  church  at  Periakulam,  the 
catechists  of  the  villages  in  his  district,  and  his  munshi, 
all  bore  testimony  in  their  simple  manner  to  his  worth. 
The  last-named  wrote  as  follows  to  David's  father  not 
long  after  the  death  of  his  pupil.  I  make  no  apology 
for  inserting  the  letter  without  any  alteration  of  the 
phraseology. 

[to    CHARLES    SCUDDER,  ESQ.] 

Most  venerable  Sir,  —  With  due  submission  and 
unutterable  grief,  I  beg  to  bring  to  your  notice  the 
very  painful  news  concerning  my  valuable  and  most 


388  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

beloved  master,  the  Rev.  D.  C.  Scudder,  your  affec- 
tionate son,  whom  we  all  expected  to  be  the  first- 
rate  literary  spiritual  guide  in  our  country.  No  sooner 
he  arrived  at  Madura,  I  had  the  privilege  of  being 
taken  by  him  as  his  Tamil  munshi  and  mission  helper. 
Indeed  I  was  very  glad  to  place  myself  under  the  care 
of  a  worthy,  good  master  and  mistress.  While  in  Ma- 
dura he  not  only  devoted  his  time  to  his  Tamil  studies, 
but  also  was  very  particular  in  examining  the  histories 
of  the  former  Tamil  kings  and  taking  a  clear  view  of 
the  celebrated  Meenachee's  temple  of  Madura,  and 
began  at  once  in  his  daily  ridings  to  converse  with  the 
Brahmans  and  visit  the  Tamil  heathen  schools,  while 
he  w^as  yet  unable  to  speak  Tamil  well.  The  Brah- 
mans were  quite  astonished  at  his  deep  knowledge  in 
their  shastras,  while  most  of  them  were  ignorant  of 
their  own.  He  expected  to  study  Sanskrit  next  year. 
Last  February  he  removed  with  his  family  to  his 
new  field,  which  lies  close  to  the  mountains  and  rivers, 
where  he  at  once  adopted  suitable  plans  to  accomplish 
the  great  object  for  which  he  came,  and  at  the  same 
time  paid  especial  attention  to  his  Tamil  studies,  in 
which  he  made  wonderful  progress.  He  commenced 
to  translate  English  and  Tamil  into  one  another,  and 
recently  preached  two  Tamil  sermons  on  the  first  two 
miracles  of  Christ.  He  was  much  beloved  by  the  peo- 
ple for  his  good  disposition  and  fluent  talk  of  the  Tamil 
language.  He  and  his  admirable  lady  were  very  kind 
to  their  servants  as  well  as  to  others.  His  brain  was 
full  of  thoughts,  that  he  was  ever  industrious.  Since 
September  last  his  mind  was  turned  to  discover  some 
ancient  curiosities,  which  he  w^as  told  to  be  deposited 
into  the  ground.     Accordingly  he  set  out  to  work,  dug 


DAVID  COIT   SCUDDER.  389 

out  several  places  on  the  ground,  and  found  out  some 
mud  vessels,  &c.,  that  the  people,  to  whom  it  was  very- 
curious,  created  a  false  name  everywhere  that  a  white 
man  had  dug  out  sufficient  wealth  from  the  ground, 
through  the  means  of  an  enchanting  glass,  —  referring 
to  his  telescope. 

My  master  has  begun  everything  that  should  be 
done  in  future,  and  it  is  a  sad  thing  that  he  disap- 
peared before  his  works  were  manifested,  both  among 
his  countrymen  and  Hindus.  We  were  glad  that  a 
new  star  appeared  in  a  region  of  shadow  of  death,  but 
to  our  loss  and  misfortune  it  disappeared  so  soon  and 
so  unexpectedly.  No  doubt,  sir,  if  our  master  had 
lived,  you  will  be  glad  to  hear  that  great  and  remark- 
able things  were  done  by  him.  It  is  no  small  thing 
to  lose  such  a  beautiful,  young,  scientific,  bold,  and 
good-natured  gentleman  for  us  all,  especially  for  his 
dear  consort  and  child,  whom  he  loved  most  tenderly. 

We  all,  the  native  Christians  as  well  as  the  Ameri- 
can gentlemen  and  ladies,  feel  very  sorry  indeed  for  the 
loss  of  our  able  minister.  I  pray  that  Lord  of  Mercy 
to  give  consolation  to  the  discomforted  hearts  of  my 
master's  parents  and  friends,  especially  my  kind  mis- 
tress, who  is  left  to  lament  after  her  dear  husband. 

With  my  humble  salaams  to  you  all, 
I  remain,  most  venerable  sir. 

Your  very  obedient  and  humble  servant, 

J.  H.  Breckenridge. 

Our  father  had  already  of  his  own  accord  written 
the  following  affectionate  letter  to  the  munshi,  which  I 
did  not  discover  until  it  was  too  late  to  insert  it  in  it& 
order :  — 


390  LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF 

[to    J.  H.  BRECKENRIDGE.] 

I  notice  that  in  very  many  of  the  letters  which  my 
beloved  son  sends  to  me  from  India,  informing  me  of 
what  he  is  endeavoring  to  do  to  benefit  the  people,  he 
often  mentions  you  as  one  of  his  best  helpers  in  his 
work,  and  as  I  read  these  words  respecting  you,  my 
heart  is  drawn  out  toward  you  in  Christian  love,  and  I 
feel  very  much  like  writing  you  a  short  letter. 

My  son  left  a  pleasant  home,  loving  parents,  brothers 
and  sister,  and  everything  to  make  life  desirable  and 
happy,  that  he  might  go  to  India  and  tell  the  people 
there  of  the  preciousness  of  Christ  and  his  salvation. 
He  had  for  many  years  thought  a  great  deal  about 
India,  and  I  believe  was  moved  by  the  Holy  Spirit  to 
devote  his  life  to  laboring  among  your  people  for  their 
good,  expecting  no  reward  but  to  win  the  approbation 
of  his  Saviour  and  yours,  in  that  great  day  when  we 
shall  all  render  up  our  account  to  the  judge  of  the 
quick  and  the  dead. 

"We,  his  parents,  freely  let  him  go,  for  we  also  have 
strong  desires  that  the  people  of  India  may  hear  the 
messao-e  of  Christ's  love,  and  were  willino;  that  our 
son  should  obey  the  command  of  our  Saviour  to  go 
"  into  all  the  world  and  preach  the  gospel  to  every 
creature."  And  now  he  is  in  his  chosen  field  of  labor, 
having  spent  years  in  qualifying  himself  for  the  work, 
and  you  are  with  him  and  know  him,  and  already  I  do 
not  doubt  love  him  as  a  brother ;  and  he  is  worthy  of 
your  love,  for  you  will  ever  find  him  a  fast  friend,  as 
will  every  soul  that  shall  listen  to  the  message  he 
brings,  and  shall  come  to  Christ  with  all  their  heart. 

It  rejoices  me  much  to  know  that  he  has  so  kind  a 
friend  and  helper  as  he  has  in  you,  and  I  pray  you  to 


DAVID   COIT    SCUDDER.  391 

confide  in  him  in  all  things,  for  he  will  never  disap- 
point you ;  and  with  your  aid  and  sympathy  and  God's 
blessing,  I  have  strong  hopes  that  he  will  persuade 
many  to  renounce  all  superstition  and  idolatry,  and  to 
receive  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  as  their  only  Saviour. 

My  dear  Mr.  Breckenridge,  I  am  an  old  man,  past 
threescore  years  and  ten,  and  never  expect  to  see 
again  my  son  in  the  flesh,  or  to  behold  your  counte- 
nance in  this  world.  But  if  we  bear  the  image  of 
Christ  on  earth,  we  may  with  confidence  look  forward 
to  the  time  when  we  shall  bear  his  heavenly  image  in 
that  better  world  to  which  we  go.  There  I  shall  know 
you  and  you  will  know  me,  and  we  will  sing  together 
the  song  of  redeeming  love. 

I  am  your  brother  in  Christ, 

Charles  Scudder. 

David's  catechists  each  wrote  to  Mr.  Capron,  giving 
some  particulars  of  his  life  and  death,  the  most  notice- 
able of  which  have  already  been  used  in  these  pages. 
Their  letters  are  couched  in  the  flowing  terms  of  an 
Oriental  speech,  but  display  the  simplicity  of  their 
feelings  and  sincerity  of  their  grief.  ''  As  I  think 
about  his  death  and  his  life,"  writes  one,  "  it  is  a  great 
sadness  to  me.  If  he  were  living  I  should  have  many 
blessings."  Next  to  his  munshi,  probably  Pastor  Sey- 
mour, of  the  town  church  at  Periakulam,  had  the  closest 
intercourse  with  David,  and  from  his  letter,  addressed 
to  Mr.  Capron,  I  make  the  following  extract :  — 

"To  your  loving  presence,  my  much  honored  and 
most  excellent  father,  your  servant  Seymour,  making 
salaam  with  much  reverence,  writes  as  follows :     Ac- 


392  LIFE  AND  LETTERS   OF 

cording  to  the  request  of  the  honored  Mr.  Noyes  I  was 
strongly  desirous  to  write  you  the  brief  history  which 
follows  of  my  dear  and  most  excellent  father,  the  hon- 
ored Mr.  Scudder.  Therefore  to  whomever  you  desire 
to  write  and  make  known  these  facts,  I  earnestly  beg 
you  to  do  me  the  favor  to  write  and  make  them  known 
in  my  name. 

"  Those  who  knew  and  those  who  did  not  know  our 
dear  and  excellent  teacher  and  father,  will  desire  to 
hear  about  the  good  disposition  and  wisdom  well  befit- 
ting a  Christian  teacher  which  were  his,  and  about  the 
way  in  which  he  performed  the  splendid  labor  of  his 
service  during  the  ten  months  that  he  came  and  lived 
among  us.  At  the  time  he  came  here  and  began  his 
great  work,  as  all  knew  that  he  was  recently  from 
America,  it  was  to  be  expected  that  both  the  Christians 
and  the  heathen  should  fasten  their  eyes  on  his  dispo- 
sition and  his  daily  life.  When  he  came  he  had  learned 
to  speak  the  Tamil  somewhat ;  he  conversed  with  much 
eagerness  and  benevolence,  and  with  exceeding  kind- 
ness, with  the  Christians  and  the  heathen  who  came  to 
see  him,  speaking  with  the  hesitancy  of  a  child,  and  in 
brief  sentences,  but  striving  to  remove  the  errors  of 
heathenism,  and  to  impress  upon  the  mind  the  truth 
of  the  Christian  religion.  Besides,  in  order  to  give 
instruction  to  the  heathen,  and  to  the  members  of  the 
congregation,  he  used  to  come  to  Periakulam  morning 
and  evening,  taking  a  few  religious  tracts  in  his  hand, 
and  having  first  seen  and  spoken  with  those  of  my  con- 
gregation in  a  quarter  of  Periakulam,  who  met  him, 
he  would  call  me,  and  going  into  the  village  and  seeing 
men  of  various  sects,  and  speaking  wisdom  with  ear- 
nestness and  patience,  would  distribute  his  books  and 


DAVID  COIT   SCUDDER.  393 

return.  When,  as  sometimes  happened,  a  dispute  arose, 
he  would  rej^ly  with  much  love,  and  if  he  saw  that 
what  he  said  was  not  understood  by  those  who  listened, 
he  would  look  at  me  with  a  smile,  which  indicated  his 
feelings.  It  was  on  this  account,  from  the  eagerness 
he  felt  to  be  able  to  speak  Tamil  clearly,  that  he 
learned  so  rapidly 

"  Once  when  he  came  by  the  way  of  Tenkarai  to  hold 
a  meeting  in  my  congregation,  he  saw  a  few  heathen 
standino;  together.  Althoush  he  desired  to  make 
known  our  Saviour  to  them,  he  was  afraid  that  they 
would  make  a  disturbance,  and  did  not  speak  to  them  ; 
this  he  not  only  mentioned  to  me  and  to  the  members 
of  the  congregation,  but  thinking  that  he  had  denied 
the  Saviour,  he  earnestly  begged  forgiveness  for  this 
fault  in  prayer. 

"  .  .  .  .  Moreover,  among  Christians  also  he  exhib- 
ited an  amiable  disposition  and  a  bright  example.  Al- 
though there  were  some  well-known  faults  in  the  con- 
gregation, he  did  not  despise  the  people  on  account  of 
their  faults,  but  was  constantly  putting  forth  efforts  that 
they  might,  by  whatever  means,  become  true  Christians. 
If  you  told  him  about  a  weak  Christian,  he  longed  to 
reconcile  him  and  to  establish  him  again  in  the  Lord. 
He  would  see  him  often  and  question  him,  and  advise 
him  with  patience,  with  thought  of  the  Saviour,  and 
with  tears,  leading  him  to  reflect  upon  his  fault,  and  not 
giving  up  till  he  had  established  him.  Although  a  few 
of  the  members  of  the  congregation  spoke  roughly  to 
him,  he  would  hsten  to  them  cheerfully  and  advise 
them  with  much  tenderness.  There  is  no  one  of  my 
congregation  whom  he  had  not  seen  and  conversed 
with.     Besides  every  week,  on  the  Sabbath,  after  the 


394  LIFE  AND   LETTERS   OF 

afternoon  service  he  went  regularly  to  three  houses  for 
the  purpose  of  having  prayer  with  the  people 

"  There  are  facts  which  show  that  he  was  prepared 
for  death.  For  once  reflecting  about  himself,  he  said 
to  me  many  times  that  he  was  a  great  sinner.  That 
he  should  speak  in  this  way  was  very  surprising  to  me, 
for  while  I  could  not  but  believe  that  he  was,  as  far  as 
I  knew,  a  teacher  who  possessed  the  spirit  of  our 
Saviour,  the  surprise  was  that  he  had  such  little 
thought  of  himself  as  to  say  in  this  way  that  he  was 
a  sinner.  At  another  time,  he  began  to  converse  with 
me  about  true  faith,  and  asked  me  to  describe  briefly 
and  accurately  the  faith  which  is  necessary  to  salva- 
tion. To  this  I  replied  :  '  The  faith  which  is  necessary 
to  salvation  is  an  eye  which  is  always  turned  to  Jesus 
hanging  upon  the  cross ;  it  is  an  empty  hand  which  is 
always  stretched  out  to  receive  the  forgiveness,  right- 
eousness, wisdom,  and  other  blessings  which  He  gra- 
ciously gives.  A  person  of  such  faith  that  he  may 
win  Christ  and  the  righteousness  which  comes  by  Him, 
will  count  all  thino;s  else  but  dunoj.  Besides  this  faith 
is  not  dead  but  living.  It  works  by  love,  it  purifies 
the  heart.  This  is  the  victory  which  overcomes  the 
world.  It  is  by  such  marks  as  these  that  the  faith 
which  we  have  will  be  found  to  be  the  true  faith.' 
'  Is  this  so  ? '  he  asked ;  '  then,'  he  asked  himself, 
'  have  I  such  faith?  ' 

"At  another  time  he  spoke  about  death.  That  one 
who  spoke  thus  about  death  had  premonitions  of  his 
own  death  there  is  evidence  from  his  own  words.  For 
when  paying  forty  rupees,  advance  money,  to  a  man 
to  get  a  touring-cart  made  for  him,  he  looked  at  the 
man  and  said,   'If  I  die,  you  must  give  this  money 


DAVID  COIT   SCUDDER.  £95 

without  the  least  trouble  to  Mrs..  Scudcler.'  Finally, 
a  few  days  before  he  died,  when  he  was  questioning  me 
about  the  bliss  of  heaven,  he  enlarged  upon  the  brief 
reply  which  I  made,  and  closed  by  saying,  '  Oh,  that 
will  be  joyful,  joyful.' 

"Alas!  that  one  of  such  benevolence  of  heart,  quick 
perception,  love  for  souls,  delight  m  prayer,  true  god- 
liness, self-abhorrence,  unfaihng  perseverance,  and  other 
noble  qualities,  who  also  had  much  learning,  a  keen 
intellect,  humihty  of  opinion,  so  patient  a  disposition, 
such  vigor  of  body  and  youth,  should  die  so  suddenly, 
is  certainly  to  us  a  great  loss." 

To  his  former  comrades,  both  in  college  and  in 
the  theological  seminary,  the  news  of  David's  death 
brought  personal  sorrow ;  they  had  not  thought  of 
death  in  connection  with  one  so  flushed  with  life,  so 
full  of  great  capacities  of  labor.  At  Andover  the 
Senior  Professor,  when  the  intelligence  came,  met  his 
class  in  the  lecture-room  and  spent  an  hour  in  a  heart- 
felt tribute  to  the  memory  of  one  who  had  left  upon 
the  seminary  the  stamp  of  his  individual  power.  "  You 
could  trace  his  course  through  this  seminary,"  said  he, 
"  as  a  river  through  a  meadow,  by  the  greenness  of  its 
banks.  If  he  had  died  immediately  upon  leaving  us, 
he  would  have  done  a  life's  work." 

It  needs  not  that  mention  should  be  made  of  the 
sorrow  which  this  death  brought  upon  the  household 
which  it  entered.  But  the  love  of  the  father  for  his 
son,  which  I  have  not  set  forth  as  I  ought,  strong  in 
the  child's  infancy,  growing  with  his  growth,  sancti- 
fied by  the  sacrifice  which  it  made  in  the  world-wide 
separation,  deepened  by  the  unceasing  interchange  of 


393     LIFE  AND   LETTERS   OF   DAVID   COIT   SCUDDER. 

thought  and  words  of  affection,  —  this  love,  answered 
by  the  steadfast,  tender  feehng  of  the  son,  was  per- 
mitted its  fullest  joy  in  the  quick  union  of  souls  above. 
The  father,  growing  in  years,  had  not  thought  to  be 
the  one  left  behind.  Nor  was  he  long  detained.  The 
first  intelligence  of  the  death,  travelling  for  six  weeks, 
came  in  one  short  sentence  upon  the  envelope  of  a 
letter  from  Madras  to  the  Missionary  House.  On  Fri- 
day, the  16th  of  January,  1863,  came  this  message. 
On  the  Wednesday  following,  our  father,  going  out  in 
the  morning  through  the  city,  felt  weary  and  entered 
an  office  to  rest,  where  suddenly,  without  pain,  without 
the  hour  of  trouble,  he  died. 

It  will  not  be  thought  strange  that  these  two  souls, 
so  joined  in  life,  should  be  reunited  also  at  death.  To 
our  minds  who  knew  them  both  they  ever  dwell  to- 
gether ;  and  if  it  shall  seem  to  any  one  reading  this 
memorial  of  a  brother  that  it  was  not  necessary  to 
record  so  uneventful  a  life,  or  that  my  partiality  has 
mamiified  the  worth  of  one  little  known  to  the  world, 
let  me  answer  that  I  have  obeyed  the  request  of  my 
father,  uttered  the  night  before  his  death,  with  no 
thought  that  it  would  be  his  final  charge  to  me.  "It 
is  not,"  said  he,  "  because  I  love  my  son  that  I  think 
his  life  worthy  to  be  published,  but  because  I  think 
that  Christ  will  be  honored  and  His  cause  advanced." 
In  the  spirit  which  led  him  to  ask  me  to  prepare  this 
work,  I  have  sought  to  perform  it,  and  now  offer  it 
reverently  to  Christ  and  the  Church. 

LAUS  DEO. 


INDEX. 


A.  B.  C.  F.  M.,  meeting  of,  92. 
Aborigines  of  India,  article  on,  129. 
Abstract  thought,  disinclination  of 

D.  C.  S.  for,  112,  124. 
Accountability  of  Christians,  230. 
Activity  of  D.  C  S.,  11 ;  in  mind,  76, 

144. 
Affectionate  manner  of  the  Hindus, 

182. 
America,  rebellion  in,  261,  262. 
Amused,  habit  of  being,  109. 
Ancestry,  1,  2. 
Andipatti,   tour   through,  280,  293, 

338 ;  last  visit  to,  376. 
Andover,  72,  73,  82. 
Animals,  friendship  of  D.  C.  S.  for, 

14,  15. 
Appearance  of  D.  C  S.  on  entering 

college,  21,  24,  25. 
Arcot  Mission,  200. 
Arnold,  Thomas,  influence    of,    on 

D.  C.  S.,  104. 
Ashes,  rubbing  of  sacred,  181,  196, 

235,  236. 

Ballantyne,  Dr.,  128,  132. 

Bandy,  a,  176;  description  of,  195, 
202 ;  travelling  in,  203,  275. 

Banian-tree,  274,  291. 

Barnstable,  1,  12. 

Bathing,  274,  334. 

Battalagundu,  213. 

Bazaar,  a  native,  182,  183;  preach- 
ing in,  348. 

Beach,  Madras,  182. 

Beasts,  wild,  on  the  Pulney  Hills, 
314. 

Beggars  in  Madras,  184,  189. 

Belleville,  N.J. ,90. 

Benevolent  spirit  among  Hindu 
Christians,  224-226,  245. 

Bible  colportage,  86 ;  purpose  of,  87. 

Biblioiheca  Sacra,  essays  in,  129, 
132.     » 

Birth  of  D.C.  S.,  1. 

Birthday  in  India,  244. 


Bloomfield,  N.  J.,  88,  89,  90. 

Boden  Professorship,  128, 133. 

Books,  love  of,  103. 

Bopp's  Comparative  Grammar,  134. 

Box  from  home,  314,  318,  319. 

Boyishness,  75. 

Brahmans,  180,  333. 

Breckenridge,  J.  H.,  letter  of,  to  C 

Scudder,  387;  letter  to,  trom  C. 

Scudder,  390. 
Brethren,  Christian,  Society  of,  78, 

79,  101, 113,  116. 
Buck,  Henry,  letter  to,  352. 
Bullock  driving,  212,  219,  220,  275. 
Bungalow,  description  of  a,  204. 
Bvmsen,  Chevalier,  134,  135. 
Burial  services,  382-384. 
Burnell,  Rev.  T.  T.,  letter  to,  178 ; 

reference  to,  242,  243,  244,  246, 

274. 

Caldwell's,  Dr.,  Comparative  Gram- 
mar, 129;  History  of  Tinnevelly 
Mission,  276. 

Cameron,  111.,  adventures  at,  150- 
153. 

Cape  Cod,  birthplace  of  D.  C  S.'s 
father,  1 ;  visit  to,  12,  13. 

Capron,  Rev.  W.  B.,  102;  letter  to, 
117 ;  reference  to,  221. 

Cares  of  missionary  life,  367. 

Caste,  243,  340. 

Catamaran,  a,  173,  193. 

Catechist,  a,  at  work,  190 ;  account 
ofD.  C.  S.  by  a,  378. 

Catholics,  Roman,  89,  196. 

Cattle,  disease  among,  297. 

Cavery  river,  210. 

Ceylon,  173. 

Character  of  D.  C  S.  as  missionary, 
392,  393. 

Chatham,  12. 

Child,  birth  of,  to  D.  C.  S.,  260,  261. 

Children,  atfection  of,  for  D.  C.  S., 
142,  377 ;  in  India,  179,  180,  185, 
186,  194,  236;  missionary  educa- 


398 


INDEX. 


tion  of,  8,  117,140;  talks  to,  99, 
100,  139-142. 

Chinese  faith,  253. 

Christians,  native,  character  of,  227, 
256. 

Christmas  at  Madura,  263. 

Classical  studies,  aptness  of  D.  C.  S. 
at,  16,  51. 

Coit,  family  name  of  D.  C.  S.'s  moth- 
er, 2. 

College-life,  letter  concerning,  323; 
return  to,  47 ;  reluctance  to  end,  70. 

College-mates,  27,  28 ;  efforts  in  be- 
half of,  by  D.  C.  S.,  44,  59,  60; 
feeling  for,  69,  70. 

Como,  111.,  visit  to,  150. 

Composition,  difficulty  of  D.  C  S.  in, 
38,  52 ;  new  character  of,  80. 

Congregation,  a  Hindu,  190, 267, 280 ; 
additions  to,  282. 

Congregational  Church,  division  in, 
3 ;  adaptation  to  missionary  enter- 
prise, 139. 

Conversation  with  D.  C  S.,  121, 122. 

Cook,  petition  of,  266. 

Cromlechs,  on  the  Pulneys,  358-361 ; 
at  Mana  Madura,  362;  in  Peria- 
kulam,  363-366. 

Crows  in  India,  194. 

Dance  of  natives,  237. 

Dark  side  of  missionary  experience, 

374. 
Day,  a,  on  shipboard,  164, 165 ;   at 

Madura,  258 ;  at  Periakulam,  333- 

338. 
Dean,  Rev.  S.  C,   letters  to,   102, 

117,  118,  221. 
Death,  of  D.  C.  S.,  380;  thoughts  of 

D.  C.  S.  on,  158,  189,  394. 
Defender  of  the  gospel,  a,  191. 
Degradation  of   Hindus,   230,  254, 

255,  256,  292,  372. 
Despondency,  325. 
Devotional  habits  of  D.  C  S.,  330. 
Dhorey,  a,  173. 
Diary  of  D.  C  S.,  88-92;  character 

of,  88. 
Dindigal,  207,  212,  218 ;  rock  at,  147, 

213. 
Discipline,  church,  among  the  Hin- 
dus, 375 ;  self,  of  D.  C  S.,  43. 
Donkeys,  impounding  of,  262,  263. 
Dress  of  Hindus,  194,  195. 
Duff,  Dr.,  quoted,  91. 
Dutton,   George  D.,  161;  letter  to, 

327. 
Dutton,  Harriet  L.,  161. 


Earnestness,  moral,  119. 
Economical  expedients  of  D.  C.  S., 

30,  31. 
Electra  of  Sophocles,  53. 
Embarkation  of  missionaries,   161- 

163. 
Energy  of  D.  C.  S.,  144. 
Enthusiasm  in  face  of  obstacles,  217, 

222. 
Essex  Street,  early  home  of  D.  C.  S. 

in,  5. 
Examination  as  missionary,  227,  228, 

Exhortation,  direct,  91. 

Fair  at  Andipatti,  344. 
Faith  in  God,  326,  373,  394. 
Farm,  at  work  on  a,  19,  106. 
Farmer-life,  inclination  of  D.  C.  S. 

for  a,  14,  19,  34. 
Farming  in  India,  352-354. 
Feast-day  at  Madura,  283. 
Figurative  language  of  the  Hindus, 

216. 
Fishing  in  India,  238,  239. 
Fisk,  Kev.  D.  T.,  letter  to,  246. 
Foster,  John,  54,  104. 

Gardeners,  Hindu,  335. 
Genius,  D.  C.  S.  a  man  of,  108. 
Germany,  letter  to  a   classmate  in, 

135. 
Girls,  names  of,  in  India,  268. 
Girls'   Boarding-School  in  Madura, 

268,  269. 
Good-nature  of  D.  C  S.,  109. 
Graduation  of  D.  C  S.  from  college, 

69. 

Hannibal,  Mo.,  152,  155. 

Hat,  pith,  187. 

Health-retreat  of  the  mission,  297, 
303. 

Heat  of  India,  262,  298,  304,  329. 

Heathenism,  feelings  in  presence  of, 
229,  230,  322 ;  hopeless  element  of, 
257. 

Herrick,  Rev.  George  F.,  letters  to, 
125,  126,  351. 

High  Street,  93,  94. 

Hindu  character,  217,  247,  276 ;  in- 
fluence upon,  387. 

Hindu  literature,  papers  on,  125, 126; 
philosophy,  sketch  of,  129 ;  studies 
in,  113,  123,  130-133,  213,  351. 

Hinduism,  character  of,  130,  131, 
132 ;  studies  in,  113, 123,  124,  126, 
130. 


INDEX. 


399 


Hoisington,  Eev.  H.  R.,  65,  82,  113, 

124:. 

Home,  love  of  D.  C.  S.  for,  159,  190, 

293,  331. 
Home  education  of  D.  C.  S.,  4',  5,  6, 

26. 
Hopkins,  Dr.  Mark,  67. 
Hyannis  Port,  12. 

Immaturity  of  mind,  68. 
"Independence  must  have  limits," 

38. 
Independent,   newspaper,  papers   in, 

India,  enjoyment  of  life  in,  249,  251; 
first  impressions  of,  176,  177,  331 ; 
impatience  of  D.  C.  S.  to  reach, 
82,  83,  92,  107,  125,  145,  146 ;  in- 
terest of  D.  C.  S.  in,  66,  123,  136 ; 
races  in,  131. 

Indian  Ridge,  73,  118. 

Indifference  of  natives  to  the  gospel, 
320. 

Inexperience  of  D.  C.  S.,  25. 

Irishwoman,  encounter  of  D.  C.  S. 
with,  94. 

Janitor,  duties  of  D.  C.  S.  as,  30,  32. 
Jeffrey,  Francis,  remark  of,  109, 
Journal,  form  of,  179. 
Jubilee,  Mission,  at  Williamstown, 

84-86. 
Judicial  office  of  the  missionary,  217. 
Julia,  child,  260,  261,  263,  264. 

Kali,  the  gardener's  daughter,  236. 
Karur,  210,  211;  fortress  at,  208, 214. 
Kodangki,  a,  243. 
Kodi  Kanal,  323,  383. 

Labaree,  Rev.  Benjamin,  Jr.,  letters 

to,  158,  160. 
"Letters  to  a  Young  Student,"  39. 
Letters  to  Sunday-schools,  191. 
Libraries,  use  of,  123,  124. 
Lord's   Supper,  celebration  of,  301, 

339,  340,  374. 
Lothrop,  Mrs.,  teacher  of  D.  C.  S., 


Madras,  146 ;  landing  at,  176,  193. 

Madura,  aiTival  at,  218;  residence 
in,  223 ;  Mission,  140 ;  interest  of 
D.  C.  S.  in,  386 ;  meeting  at,  223- 
228. 

Mallur,  letter  from,  200. 

Mana  Madura,  361. 

Mar  Yohannan,  visit  of,  in  Boston,  11, 


Marriage  of  D.  C.  S.,  161. 

Masullah  boats,  145,  174. 

Maternal  Association,  7. 

Mathematics,  distaste  of  D.  C.  S.  for 
16,  32,  51. 

Matthews,  Capt.  George,  164. 

Melur,  273. 

Memorial  stone,  385. 

Methodical  life,  39. 

Mills  Theological  Society,  60-63. 

Missionaries,  visit  of,  to  Periakulam, 
300. 

Missionary'-,  resolution  of  D.  C.  S.  to 
be  a,  34,  35. 

Missionaiy  cause  in  Boston,  7. 

Missionary  education,  of  children,  8 ; 
ofD.  C.  S.,  64. 

Missionary  purpose,  growth  of,  in 
D.  C.  S.,  60. 

Missionary  spirit,  effort  of  D.  C.  S.  to 
increase,  63,  114,  115,  116,  117; 
character  of,  171, 172. 

Missionary  work,  anticipation  of,  169, 
170-172,  173 ;  compared  with  pas- 
toral labor,  320,  321;  discourage- 
ments of,  217,  247,  248,  322 ;  inter- 
est in,  345 ;  manner  of  i3erforming, 
392 ;  plans  of,  277,  281,  347. 

Mistakes  in  use  of  Tamil,  186,  187. 

Mohammedan  boy,  205,  206 ;  conver- 
sation with  a,  348 ;  religion  in  In- 
dia, 188. 

Monkeys,  313. 

Monthly  concert,  101 ;  in  Madras,  186. 

Morbidness  of  feeling,  42,  55-58, 119, 
325 ;  con-ection  of,  59. 

Mother,  letters  of  D.  C.  S.  to  his,  39, 
347. 

Mountain  climbing,  22,  23. 

Mount  Road,  Madras,  184. 

Muir's  Sanskrit  Texts,  133. 

Mullens,  Rev.  Joseph,  128,  132. 

Muller,  Max,  128, 133, 134. 

Namkal,  letter  from,  204. 
"National  Eagle,"  164. 
Naturalness  of  religious  expression 

in  D.  C.  S.,  36,  37. 
Nature,  influence  of,  on  D.  C.  S.,  15, 

21,  23,  26,  105. 
Nature  in  India,  238,  254,  255. 
Neighborhood  meetings,  98,  99. 
Nephew,  letter  of  D.  C.  S.  to  his,  323. 
Newark,  92. 
Newman,  Rev.  Charles,  letter  from, 

75 ;  reference  to,  102 ;  letter  to,  254. 
New  Year's  day  at  Madura,  264, 

265. 


400 


INDEX. 


Niagara  Falls,  148,  149. 
Niece,  letter  to  a,  233. 
Noyes,  Rev.  Mr.,  227. 

Objections  to  the  gospel  by  Hindus, 
240. 

Oddness  of  manner  in  D.  C  S.,  45, 
46. 

Oppert's  Grammar,  128,  134. 

Orange,  town  of,  88,  89,  90. 

Ordination  of  D.  C.  S.  as  mission- 
ary, 161. 

Orthodox,  sect  of,  3;  social  limita- 
tions of  the,  3. 

Out-door  life  of  D.  C  S.,  15,  21,  23, 
24,  76,  77. 

Outness  of  life  of  D.  C  S.,16,  17,  31, 
36,  45. 


Palanquin,  or  palkee,  181,  182,  203 ; 
bearers,  187. 

Palmer,  Rev.  Charles  Ray,  letter 
from,  107-112,  114r-116;  letter  to, 
249. 

Parents,  letter  of  D.  C  S.  to  his,  36. 

Paul's  Epistles,  study  of,  170. 

Peddler,  Polish,  91. 

Periakulam,  appointment  to,  275; 
description  of,  278,  279;  descrip- 
tion of  house  at,  284-288 ;  removal 
to,  283. 

Perkins,  Dr.  Justin,  11,  127. 

Personal  appeal,  value  of,  120. 

Phillips  Academy,  73,  120. 

Philosophy,  Hindu,  studies  in,  113, 
123,  130-133,  213,  351. 

Philosophy  of  History,  134,  135. 

Pilliyar,  temple  of,  181,  197,  206, 
209  229. 

Poor  children,  love  of  D.  C.  S.  for,  97. 

Popham's  Broadway,  Madras,  145, 
146,  181. 

Prayer,  for  missions,  218 ;  meetings 
for,  100 ;  morning,  at  Periakulam, 
336. 

Preaching,  character  of,  137;  object 
in,  139 ;  on  shipboard,  165 ;  in  Ma- 
dras, 185 ;  to  natives,  205,  206, 216, 
239-242 ;  plan  for,  349,  350. 

Presidential  election,  92. 

Pulney  Hills,  279,  289,  298,  303,  321; 
leaving  the,  328. 

Punkah,  185,  201. 

Puritan  origin,  1,  2. 

Purpose,  intensity  of,  44,  45. 

Quarrel  among  native  Christians, 
374. 


Rank  of  D.  C.  S.  in  college,  43. 

Reading,  taste  of  D.  C.  S.  in,  54,  80, 
103. 

Recorder,  Boston,  papers  in,  126. 

Religion,  conventional  phraseology 
of,  40,  41;  struggle  of  D.  C.  S.  in 
deciding  question  of  personal,  32- 
34;   zeal  in,  43. 

Religious  awakening  of  D.  C.  S.  the 
beginning  of  intellectual  activity, 
36;  education  of  D.  C.  S.,  18,  26, 
32 ;  feeling,  120, 121 ;  feeling,  vari- 
ability of,  42,  43. 

Rendall,  Rev.  Mr.,  220. 

Rhetoric,  sacred.  111. 

Rhododendron-tree,  over  grave,  383, 
384. 

River,  coming  down  of  the,  252,  368, 
370 ;  mode  of  crossing  the  Cavery, 
210 ;  crossing  the  Vaikai,  369,  371, 
372,  379. 

Rock  Cottage,  309,  393. 

Roxbury,  removal  of  family  to,  13; 
life  at,  14-16 ;  recollections  of,  105. 

Royapuram,  189. 

Sailors,  interest  of  D.  C.  S.  in,  165- 
167. 

St.  Hilaire,  Barthelemy,  133. 

St.  Joseph,  Mo.,  154. 

Salem,  India,  200,  202. 

Salutation,  mode  of,  in  India,  184. 

Sanskrit  language  and  literature, 
128,  133,  134,  164-166,  169,  346. 

Saturday  at  home,  119. 

Savarimuttu,  219,  265. 

Scanning  verse,  51. 

Scenery  about  Periakulam,  289. 

Scholarship  of  D.  C.  S.,  386,  388. 

School,  education  of  D.  C  S.  at,  6, 
16;  comrades,  17;  in  India,  183, 
184,  344. 

School-girls,  in  India,  268,  272. 

School-houses,  in  India,  242,  269. 

Schools,  mission,  scheme  of  support- 
ing, 140,  191. 

Schools,  Sundav,  letters  to,  192-199, 
241-246,  267-272. 

Scudder,  Charles,  father  of  D.  C.  S., 
1 ;  business  life  of,  2 ;  church  con- 
nection of,  3 ;  character  of,  4 ;  hos- 
pitality of,  to  missionaries,  9 ;  in- 
fluence of,  over  D.  C  S.,  28;  let- 
ters of,  to  D.  C.  S.,  28,  29,  83,  84; 
failure  of,  in  business,  34;  inter- 
course of  D.  C.  S.  with,  100 ;  part- 
ing of,  with  son,  163 ;  remembrance 
of,  by  D.  C.  S.,  250;  letters  to, 


INDEX. 


401 


from  D.  C.  S.,  251,  324;  letter  to, 
from  J.  H.  Breckenridge,  387 ;  let- 
ter of,  to  same,  390 ;  death  of,  396. 

Scudder,  Charles  W.,  letter  to,  372. 

Scudder,  Charles  W.,  Mrs.,  letter  to, 
290. 

Scudder,  D.  C,  Mrs.,  380,  381,  386. 

Scudder,  Rev.  Evarts,  161 ;  letters  to, 
189,  259. 

Scudder,  Horace  E.,  letters  to,  228, 
238,  275,  319,  333,  345,  367. 

Scudder,  Dr.  John,  connection  of, 
with  family  of  D.  C.  S.,  9;  ad- 
dresses of,  to  children,  9,  10;  per- 
sonal influence  of,  over  D.  C.  S., 
10,  35,  142 ;  death  of,  35. 

Scudder,  Rev.  John,  164,  166,  175, 
176. 

Scudder,  Samuel  H.,  letters  to,  238, 
250,  332. 

Scudder,  Silas,  201. 

Scudder  family,  origin,  1 ;  residence, 
5 ;  home  life,  5,  6. 

Search  for  remains  of  D.  C.  S.,  380, 
381. 

Self-examination,  40. 

Self-reproach,  325,  332. 

Senior  year  at  Williams  College,  67. 

Sermon,  missionary,  137,  138. 

Servants,  267,  284,  327. 

Seymour,  Pastor,  285;  letter  from, 
391. 

Short,  Charles,  16. 

Sister,  letters  from  D.  C  S.  to  his, 
82,  168,  250,  276,  293,  321. 

Siva,  three  marks  of,  174,  209. 

Society,  aversion  of  D.  C.  S.  from 
formal,  74. 

Society  of  Inquiry,  114. 

Solavanthan,  recovery  of  remains 
from,  382. 

Song,  funeral,  of  Christians,  384. 

Soothsayer,  a,  243. 

Sophomore  year  at  college,  52,  54. 

Storm  on  Puhievs,  315,  361. 

Street-life  of  D.'C  S.,  11,  12. 

Street-preaching,  239,  240,  241. 

Studv,  habits  of,  31,  51, 110 ;  on  ship- 
board, 172,  173. 

Sturtevant,  Rev.  J.  M.,  Jr.,  letter 
from,  119-122;  letters  to,  137-139, 
164. 

Style  of  life  among  missionaries,  327, 
328. 

Sunday  on  shipboard,  165,  166. 

Swedish  Bible-class,  97,  98,  118. 

Swimming-basin,  274. 

Swings  for  heathen  gods,  198. 


"  Tales  about  the  Heathen,"  143. 

Tamil  language,  study  of,  65,  66, 
101,  113, 124, 126, 127 ;  first  exper- 
iments in  use  of,  174,  176,  177, 
180,  186 ;  mistakes  in  use  of,  186, 
187. 

Tamil  lyrics,  190,  227,  254. 

Tamil  stor}',  259,  260. 

Tank,  water,  252,  265,  266. 

Taylor,  Isaac,  writings  of,  104, 
105. 

Temperament,  variable,  of  D.  C.  S., 
42,  87,  109,  110. 

Temple,  heathen,  197,  198,  205,  206. 
229,  230-233,  235,  245,  255. 

Temple  Place,  5. 

Theological  Seminary,  entrance  of, 
72 ;  life  in,  77,  78,  81 ;  classes  of 
students  in,  115 ;  notice  of  D.  C  S. 
in,  395. 

Theology,  study  of.  111. 

Thinking,  systematic  efforts  of  D.  C. 
S.  at,  38,  52. 

Thompson,  Rev.  A.  L.,  138, 157, 158, 
160. 

Tippoo  Saib,  214. 

Touring,  215 ;  preparations  for,  293, 
294. 

Tract  distribution,  93. 

Treat,  Rev.  S.  B.,  letter  to,  170- 
172. 

Trinitarian  creed,  dissent  from,  2. 

Union  Church,  3,  6. 

Vacation  in  college,  46-48,  54. 
Vegetation,  Indian,  290-292 ;  on  the 

Pulneys,  310. 
Vellore  Mission,  200. 
Vessels    found    in    cromlechs,   362, 

365. 
View  from  Pulneys,  311. 
Village  in  India,  193. 
Voyage  to  Madxas,  length  of,  164, 

192. 

War  between  England  and  Amer- 
ica, rumors  of  a,  263. 

Washburn,  Rev.  Geo.  T.,  124,  125; 
letters  to,  127,  128,  130-135,  143, 
145-147,  160;  letter  from,  382. 

Webb,  Rev.  Edward,  124,  161,  164, 
200,  205,  209,  215. 

Well,  an  Indian,  286 ;  drawing  water 
from,  335. 

West,  journey  to  the,  147-157. 

Western  aspects,  157. 

Wethersfield,  Conn.,  19, 106. 


402 


INDEX. 


Whimsicality  of  D.  C.  S.,  45, 46,  75, 
76. 

White,  Rev.  Mr.,  214. 

WiUiams,  Monier,  128, 133, 134. 

Williams  College,  number  of  stu- 
dents in,  26 ;  character  of  commu- 
nity in,  26, 27 ;  life  at,  47, 50 ;  senior 
year  in,  67 ;  system  of  education  in, 
67,  68;  interest  of  D.  C.  S.  in,  81; 
letter  to  a  nephew  in,  323. 


Williamstown,  character  of  22;  exit 
from,  46,  47;  places  of  interest 
about,  49,  50 ;  attachment  of  D.  C. 
S.  to,  70,  71;  visit  to,  81,  84-86; 
recollection  of,  168. 

Windy  season,  341. 

Winslow,  Rev.  Miron,  177, 185. 

Woodin,  Rev.  Simeon  F.,  92;  letter 
to,  253. 


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